Canada – Audiofemme

PREMIERE: FOONYAP Finds Sweet Epiphany with “Free and Easy Wandering”

Thirteen years ago, Canadian musician FOONYAP took a class in Chinese poetry. The themes discussed in those poems directly influenced her latest single “Free and Easy Wandering,” a song built around the exploration of self. The music is as fast-fast paced and beautiful as the average spring, notes melting quickly in the heat of summer, while its meditative lyrical mantra “Now is all there is” serves as a potent reminder of impermanence in a world of uncertainty

With its lowly swelling violin and the use of soft, speak-sing vocal stylings, “Free and Easy Wandering” is a pleasant return to the landscape of FOONYAP’s first solo record. It’s been four years since FOONYAP’s debut album Palimpsest, a sharp-witted record detailing her upbringing as the child of Chinese immigrants. Palimpsest straddled many genres, incorporating FOONYAP’s signature violin, her voice oscillating between a style akin to the Chinese Opera and a more punk, grunge timber. That kind of clear delineation is less apparent in “Free and Easy Wandering,” where FOONYAP allows her voice to play softly in the background, while her violin takes center stage.

Raised traditionally Catholic, FOONYAP honed her violin skills under the domed arches and glittering facades of her family’s church. “My mother heavily pushed me into playing with the church choir,”she remembers. “There were no written violin parts in most of the choral music in Catholic mass during that time. I learned how to play by ear and to improvise. And that spontaneity became part of my music making.” It was a learning experience that made her time in a conservatory difficult; FOONYAP found herself adrift among students who thrived on practicing three to four hours a day, who didn’t mind rehearsing another person’s music again and again. She found herself quietly rebelling, improvising alone in her room.

After school was over, she pushed back on her classical training, playing with a punk band, as well as the indie folk band Woodpidgeon. Calgary was the perfect setting for a young, experimental artist looking to create something both familiar and avant garde; the music community was warm and open to collaboration. After the success of her first album, she spent two years touring North America and Europe; during that time she also released 4-track remix EP Apropos. In late 2018, FOONYAP sustained a back injury that forced her to reconsider her hectic schedule and what she truly wanted to gain from both her career and her life. In the two years that followed, she spent time meditating and reflecting, picking projects that fed her soul, not just her pocketbook.

One of the projects was a collaboration with Edmonton, Alberta-based Mile Zero Dance workshop during which she was scheduled to perform live. Due to the pandemic the event went virtual, so she shifted gears, participating in the entire series and writing a song in response to the experience. The ‘Free and Easy Wandering’ series is a collection of “workshops, themes, and artworks building on conversations about Asian heritage, freedom and identity in Canada.” As workshop participants heard news reports of racism against Asian communities in Alberta and abroad, the conversations within the series became a painful processing of the day-to-day racism they experience as Canadians.

“I felt really lucky because my back injury taught me how to go through really difficult experiences in which I feel that I’ve lost everything. I felt so appreciative that I’ve gone through difficult times, so that I could be steady during this time,” FOONYAP says, thinking back on the beginning of social isolation.

“Free and Easy Wandering” is the name of the first chapter of the Zhuangzi, an ancient Chinese collection of anecdotes and fables, written (at least partially) by the Chinese philosopher Zhuang Zhou. FOONYAP chose to name her commission after the series, not only in honor of the series that birthed it, but also because the name has its roots in Daoist philosophy, a subject close to her heart. The first chapter describes a fish that transforms into a bird. “It captures this idea of the transformation and identity that is necessary to move through the world in a peaceful way,” FOONYAP explains. Her description easily brings to mind the gentle, flute-like vibrations in the first few seconds of “Free and Easy Wandering.” A third of the way through the song, as FOONYAP’s voice enters the scene, the violin transforms, its music suddenly more close to the twangs of bluegrass than classical. An energy enters it, like a walker picking up pace as they go up a hill. Throughout the song, there is a sense of discovery, highlighted by the closing lyric: “Now is all there is.”

“Now is all there is. It arose out of a moment of crisis, when I was going through my back injury and realized that I couldn’t keep up with the traditional pace of the music industry, that I needed to re-prioritize everything because I had just gotten lost in being successful,” FOONYAP explains. “It was a crisis in which I was having anxiety and I just felt like if I could only find myself then I could be calm again, I could just be okay. As I went deeper and deeper within myself, all of a sudden, when I was at my core, I felt a presence behind me. And when I turned around there was nothing. There was just a void. At the time it was a terrifying experience. It was really a grim realization that for me, there is no self defined. For me, that is my truth. And everything that I need is in everything I have right now in my consciousness and I have to find some way of working with that in order to find personal satisfaction. So with time – a lot of time and a lot of practice – the realization that there is nothing out there that will satisfy me ever, there’s just what I have right now – that’s finally a sweet, a sweet epiphany.”

While she is proactively resting both her body and spirit, she is staying busy as ever. She is currently working on a commission with the classical ensemble Kensington Sinfonia, a 20 minute composition for a string quartet, written in her own original voice. She is also collaborating on an inter-disciplinary dance piece with a Taiwanese-Canadian choreographer Pam Tzeng, as well as working with Aisinna’kiiks, a project led by Calgary Arts Development that pulls together Indigenous and non-Indigenous artists and community members to support efforts towards reconciliation. Just like her own personal projects, FOONYAP delights in fraternity, looking for opportunities in which she can lend her talents to a greater whole.

“I think the conventions that I’m most interested in exploring are the ones in which there isn’t always a star, a solo voice,” she says. “I’m more interested in writing pieces where the solos meld in and out of the group. Playing with that idea of who’s the leader and who’s not.” In FOONYAP’s narrative, the main protagonist is not the star of the hero’s journey, but one of many voices working in tandem. Whether they work toward a goal or play towards nothing at all, is a part of the story itself.

Follow FOONYAP on Instagram for ongoing updates.

Tenille Townes Builds a Sanctuary With ‘The Lemonade Stand’

Tenille Townes’ The Lemonade Stand is more than a major label debut album – it’s a safe space. On it, Townes asks big questions and expresses even bigger emotions, her compassionate worldview on full display as her childhood dream of making it big in country music takes root.

The title itself stems from a line in Townes’ empathy-focused debut single “Somebody’s Daughter” where she crafts a narrative about a young woman she saw begging for money on the side of the road. The lyrics give the woman a name (“she could be a Sarah, an Emily”), reflect on her past without judgement (“Bet she was somebody’s best friend laughing/Back when she was somebody’s sister/Countin’ change at the lemonade stand/Probably somebody’s high school first kiss/Dancin’ in a gym where the kids all talk about someday plans”), and finally, pack a thought-provoking punch as Townes ponders, “I wonder if she got lost or they forgot her.”

While the song emphasizes compassion, the album’s title stands for unity. “It represents a gathering place,” Townes tells Audiofemme. “I hope this record somehow reminds people of their dreams, too – because that feeling was very much saturated in the creation of it.” Coming together during, in Townes words, a season of “trust and faith,” there’s a certain magic that runs through the project. Across twelve songs, Townes demonstrates a sense of wisdom beyond her 26 years, crafting songs that present a deity with a list of hard-hitting questions, share her vision of heaven and suggest that life’s beauty is intangible, experienced within.

Since making the 37-hour drive from her hometown in Alberta, Canada to Music City, Townes has spent the past seven years working with some of the city’s best songwriters, connecting to her voice in the process. “Being able to really disappear into the Nashville community and craft these songs and find my voice and the things I wanted to say, that time felt really sacred to me to be digging into those thoughts,” she expresses.

Townes recorded the project over the course of seven weeks at a church-turned-studio in East Nashville. One of the “transcendent” moments of the album-making process came when she sat around the altar of the church to record “When I Meet My Maker.” Townes was wearing her great-grandmother’s earrings while recording and vows that she could feel her presence, her spirit serving as the heartbeat of the song that depicts Townes’ perspective of heaven. “When I meet my maker/I’ll walk on heaven’s boulevard/Up above the clouds/In between the stars/I’ll ask him all my questions/And he’ll answer with a smile/I’ll tell him how I love him/And I’ll thank him for my life,” she sings. She calls the song the “most raw” form of expression on the album.

That vulnerability is also reflected in “Jersey on the Wall (I’m Just Asking).” The song is inspired by Townes’ visit to a local high school reeling from a fatal car accident involving five of its students. One of them was a star basketball player and valedictorian who had her whole life ahead of her. The singer gets candid on the track, her reflections on the tragedy expanding into existential questions she’d pose to the powers that be if she ever got the chance. Her humility is reflected in the song’s parentheticals, but ultimately it’s about the life-altering events that can test the faith of even the most devout. “That felt like a very raw place to dig into,” Townes says, admitting that she wrestles with the idea of being able to ask those questions, but affirms, “I think we’re allowed to.”

Townes continues her soul-searching journey with poetic closing number, “The Most Beautiful Things.” Written by Townes, Josh Kear and Gordie Sampson, the song is based on the famous Helen Keller quote “The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched, they must be felt with the heart.” The songwriting trio felt compelled to write a song around this idea, channeling it into such lyrics as “So why do we close our eyes, when we pray, cry, kiss, dream? Maybe the most beautiful things in this life are felt and never seen.”

Townes brings these heartfelt words to life with her voice soaring over a serene melody of twinkling piano. The song also features the voice of seven-year-old Amelia, the daughter of sound engineer Jason Hall, which Townes says captures the child-like innocence of the song’s message. “It felt special to really put some music around that idea and capture that wonder and innocent-hearted way of actually noticing the beautiful things around us,” Townes observes. “I really believe they’re always there; it’s just having the eyes to see them and feel it and recognize that.”

For Townes, one of the most beautiful elements she’s experienced in life comes in the simplest, most pure form – love – a feeling that she hopes fans gravitate to in her music as the world continues to battle the COVID-19 pandemic and flood the streets for racial justice. “I hope that people feel like they can come and be filled up with this music and be reminded of the kid that they used to be, standing at some lemonade stand and dreaming of their place in the world, not afraid to notice the beautiful things around them and just show up and be who they are. I hope that they feel like they’re not alone and that they’re filled up with the idea of their dreams,” Townes says. “This record definitely is the dream that I had as a seven-year-old kid. I hope that people feel that when they hear these songs.”

The Lemonade Stand is out tomorrow, June 26th. Follow Tenille Townes on Facebook for ongoing updates.

REVIEW: Sara-Danielle Finds Strength & Vulnerability on “Healing”

Last month, Sara-Danielle released her sophomore album, Healing. The 6-track project finds the Canadian artist excelling in her personally-carved out genre – a niche that she’s coined “Ginger-ale-pop” – atop smooth instrumentals.

The project seeks to personify duality, as Sara-Danielle’s lyrics live between several points of contrast. She sings introspectively about her shortcomings and her triumphs, and expresses a romance that is both her anchoring muse and an intangible pleasure. The contrasting attitudes of confidence and unsureness, in both her own self-examination and her relationship, are refreshingly honest and extremely relatable.

Healing starts off on a mixed note of vulnerability and strength. “With You” finds Sara-Danielle expressing the strength that she’s garnered from a relationship. Seemingly romantic in nature, the bond keeps her grounded during times of self-doubt. However, the track also explores the paradox of allowing vulnerability – in this case, opening oneself to love – to be a catalyst of strength.

Sara-Danielle remains introspective throughout the next song, “Flawless,” in which she explores her own shortcomings. Her lyrics bask in self-awareness and honesty as she is able to identify what she wishes she could be and what she isn’t, finally questioning if her own introspection is selfish.

“Why am I so angry with myself, the others / Why am I so selfish, caught up in my own world,” she sings. “I wanna be good / I wanna be flawless / But it’s always all about me.”

She becomes more confident in her self-analyzing lyrics on “Sometimes,” where she expresses losing herself in a relationship – or in her own head – but always being able to find her way back. On “Waterfall,” the album’s closer, Sara-Danielle again plays with the duality of relationships, singing “Our love is like a waterfall / Falling, dripping, but never-ending,” she sings in the chorus. “I want to hold you so strong, but you don’t want me for that long / I want to make you happy, but everything else seems better than me.”

On this final Healing track, Sara-Danielle not only examines a “never-ending” love that remains out of reach, but also returns to her own insecurities, exacerbated by the unstable romance. This remains a theme throughout the album, where she bounces back-and-forth between analyzing herself and her romance, finally settling on the intersecting subject of self-love.

“Healing reflects on these past two years, as I’ve been having rough times and trying to heal, to get better,” she told AudioFemme. “It’s about finding light in the darkness and trying to stay with it. It’s about learning to be gentle with yourself.”

This goal extends through her sonic choices, which equally compliment her singing style and gently appease the listeners’ ear. Feeling both extremely personal and widely relatable, Sara-Danielle’s sophomore effort proves to be a courageously vulnerable album.

Stream Healing below.

INTERVIEW: The Blue Stones Confirm An Album Is On The Way

Hailing from Windsor, Ontario, alt-rock duo The Blue Stones performed at Bunbury Music Festival earlier this month after wrapping up their headlining North American tour. This year, vocalist / guitarist Tarek Jafar and drummer Justin Tessier have followed up their 2018 debut album, Black Holes, with several live music releases, including a cover of The Rolling Stones’ “(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction” and album hit “Black Holes (Solid Ground).”

The pair is currently gearing up to hit the studio in preparation for a new album, set to drop next year. While they’re still in the planning stages, the guys shared some new details about their “swagger-filled” album with Audiofemme to get us excited.

AF: You guys just finished up your Be My Fyre Tour. How was it?

Really, really great.

AF: And it was your first headlining coast to coast tour?

It wasn’t really coast to coast, but it was definitely our first tour through the majority of the North American places that we’ve wanted to play. We missed a lot of places—like Texas—we didn’t get a chance to go there. We want to. Next time we’ll do more of the South.

AF: That’s a big milestone!

It was great. It’s nice to have actually gone out and done it. You don’t really know what to expect. Like Seattle, I’ve never been there before, but there’s a bar full of people that know your music. So it’s really, really nice to have that and that was most of the stops, so we really appreciated that.

AF: You guys have released two bodies of live music this year, one through Audiotree Live and one through SiriusXM Studios. Are you currently recording any new music?

Yeah, we’re constantly developing new stuff. We have a pocket of songs right now that we are actually going to be taking to the studio.

AF: So a full project is in the works?

Yeah, I mean nowadays you record a batch of songs and then put it out and [you] keep doing that, but that’s going to be coming up in the early fall. We’ll be putting out new stuff and then next year the full album will be ready.

AF: You guys have such a special energy when you are performing live on stage – is that what made you want to release live tracks?

Partly, yeah. Other than that, we were just given really good opportunities to do that so we just took it. But yeah, we didn’t have any good quality live stuff from our recent set, so we wanted to make it.

AF: Anything else you can tell us about your upcoming album?

It’s been cooking for a long time, we can say that. I mean, the last time we were in the studio was 2014.

AF: So it’ll be songs from a few years ago and new music?

Yes, songs from years ago to two weeks ago.

AF: For fans that have been with you since the beginning, what will they notice on future releases?

It’s kind of hard to frame right now, but definitely an in-your-face, energetic, swagger-filled batch of songs.

AF: Should we be on the lookout for any visuals?

We’re starting to transition to the new stuff. Like, we’re going to the studio in the next couple months. We love doing cool videos, cool visuals, it’s important. It kind of ties the whole idea of an album together. We take care in making sure that works out.

INTERVIEW: Taylor Janzen Talks “Shouting Matches,” Dennis Quaid & Mental Health

At just 19 years old, soft-spoken Canadian singer Taylor Janzen tackles big emotions in her songwriting, including navigating her own experiences with anxiety and depression. Through her lyrics, Janzen hopes listeners can see their own feelings reflected and reduce the stigma toward mental health.

She recently dropped her sophomore EP, Shouting Matches, which follows up her co-produced debut EP Interpersonal. When Audiofemme caught up with her after a passionate Bunbury Music Festival performance, the self-named “sad song enthusiast” opened up about using music to cope with mental health, her love for Dennis Quaid, and her latest project.

AF: Your sophomore EP Shouting Matches dropped last month, can you tell me a little bit about it?

TJ: Well, it’s my first release with a full band, which is huge for me because it’s something I’ve always wanted to do and I’ve never had the resources to do that. I feel like I’m so picky that if I wanted to do a full band thing, I’d have to do it right, and I got the opportunity to do that and it has been such a cool experience to have the band with me. I like the different textures of having the full band and the EP itself is very personal, lyrically and emotionally charged. I like having a band to support that.

AF: Can you tell me where your inspiration came for the project lyrically?

TJ: All of the songs at some point talk about conflict, whether it’s conflict with yourself or other people or just in general. That’s a huge part of the EP and lyrically I get ideas really randomly. So, for instance, “Dennis Quaid” is a song that I wrote right as I was about to graduate high school, so it was a while ago, and I was super anxious all the time. Like, all the time, and I was like, I just need to yell. So I took my acoustic guitar and went into my basement and just yelled over my guitar and the melody of the chorus just kind of came out my yelling. So that song was designed just for me to be able to yell in the middle of my anxiousness.

AF: Why is addressing mental health in your music important to you?

TJ: I think it’s important because one of the biggest things for me about depression is that I’m feeling things by myself, but when you hear someone else talking about it, it’s kind of like breaking through a wall in your brain, which is nice. It’s nice to feel things with other people. Personally, for me, I write the songs so that I can express myself and find words for things, so it’s kind of like a therapeutic thing for me. I write things to figure out how I feel about them. And then I put them out so that other people can kind of see themselves in it a bit. It’s less about people looking for me in songs and more about people looking for themselves.

Taylor Janzen performing at Bunbury Music Festival on May 31. Photos by Victoria Moorwood.

AF: As a Canadian artist performing in the US, what are some differences you’ve noticed in the stigma and access to mental healthcare?

TJ: The Canadian mental health system is still pretty rough. Unfortunately, mental health is still a bit tricky to get into—long wait periods, sometimes can be a little bit expensive, [and] the free ones are not always great.

AF: What’s something you would like somebody who’s never heard your music to know about you?

TJ: Just like a disclaimer, I’m not sad [laughs]. Sometimes people will hear my music and think, “Oh no!” Like my mom listened and thought that and I was like, “I’m fine.” I think a lot of it speaks for itself, so anybody can head over to it without any context. Another thing, the song “Dennis Quaid” is not about Dennis Quaid. It’s about imposter syndrome anxiety, but I couldn’t figure out a name for it, so I just named it after him [laughing].

AF: But you love him right?

TJ: I do love him, a lot!

AF: Any shows or upcoming music we can look forward to?

TJ: I am playing at my hometown festival. I’m from Winnipeg, I’m playing Winnipeg Folk Fest and I’m very excited because I’ve wanted to since I started playing music. That’s been the goal and now I’m on the lineup, so that’s fun. I’m always recording. I’m always kind of thinking of the next thing, so I’m definitely working, but it’s not very far along yet.

AF: So not this year, but maybe next year?

TJ: Yeah. Stay tuned for a music video for the song “Shouting Matches!”

PREMIERE: Montreal Hip Hop Artist Shades Lawrence Debuts “Turn My Head”

We spoke to Montreal-based hip hop artist Shades Lawrence about her new single, “Turn My Head.” The queer love track rocks ’90s hip hop vibes and flips the heteronormative love song narrative. Shades channels her spoken word roots as she describes the butterflies surrounding a budding romance, assisted by Emma Maryam with soulful vocals. The single is part of a tantalizing lead-up to the release of her EP, Second Life, due out in June.

Besides her music, Shades has made a name for herself in Montreal for her ambitious efforts to provide platforms for female and non-binary musical talents, as well as for womxn of color. She regularly organizes and co-presents events for advocates of mental health, the women and non-binary artist showcase, Sister Singer, as well as a DJ night for black womxn DJs, called Sister Spinner. She also recently brought together the Lux Magna Festival, curated to highlight the creative talents of womxn of color.

As a lyricist who is in touch with the needs of her community and a dedication to being transparent in her work, Shades brings a fresh and necessary narrative to the music scene in Montreal and beyond. Listen to “Turn My Head” below and check out our interview with Shades for more details on the inspiration for the track, her upcoming EP, and her activism.

AF: Congratulations on your new single! Was it a specific relationship or story that inspired it?

SL: Thank you! Yes, “Turn My Head” is based on 3 [to] 4 different relationships that I progressed through. I thought for simplicity’s sake to combine similar experiences into one song and narrative.

AF: “Turn My Head” flips the hetero narrative normalized in most love songs. As a queer hip hop artist and a woman, how do you make sure your music stays true to you and what would you tell another artist or woman who’s feeling boxed into certain roles or stereotypes?

SL: I speak from my experience of life and tell stories that reflect my reality. I find it important to be as genuine and authentic as possible in the music I write and release. Additionally, coming from a mixed-race background, I’ve always almost intuitively avoided boxes and labels as much as possible, but at the end of the day, folks are going to have an impression of me that is based on their reality. So for me, freedom from stereotypes is about letting go of what I can’t control and focusing on my music and my art.

AF: Will there be a visual coming out for the song?

SL: A visual is in the works. Will keep you posted!

AF: Tell me a little bit about what fans can expect from your upcoming EP. When’s it coming out?

SL: My EP Second Life is coming out June 7th and it is a diverse representation of my influences. There’s a dancehall/Latin infused track that speaks of my origins; there’s storytelling aspects to another track. And there are songs that make a political statement, all with beats that are catchy. I am so excited for this release.

AF: When did you start practicing spoken word and when did that evolve into your rapping career?

SL: I started practicing spoken word in early 2015. Emma Maryam, who is the featured artist on “Turn My Head,” was actually at one of my shows the second or third time I performed poetry. In 2016, I had a collaborative spoken word show called “Extreme States” with Carole TenBrink in the Montreal Fringe Festival. I thoroughly enjoyed that experience. After having put together a complete spoken word project, I realized that I love the interaction with music so much, so I decided to cross over to hip hop, which was one of my original passions from when I was growing up.

AF: You’re well-known in Montreal for your activism and events that empower women. Tell me a little bit about these events, what they mean to you, and how you hope to help others.

SL: Two of the events I’m currently involved in organizing are Sister Singer and Sister Spinner. Sister Singer is a platform to highlight womxn and non-binary musical talent based in Montreal. Sister Spinner creates dance parties that feature all black womxn DJs. I was also recently asked to curate a show for the Lux Magna Festival in Montreal. We chose to feature womxn of color in the lineup.

I am proud of these undertakings because I know that womxn and non-binary artists, especially of color, have so much to contribute to our cultural landscape. It is also important to create these spaces and feature artists from underrepresented communities, since it provides opportunities for growth, while also enriching audiences and the music industry as a whole.

AF: Who are some artists you look to for inspiration?

SL: The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill informed much of my youth. Lyrically, I would say André 3000. Content-wise and stylistically, currently I quite enjoy Shad (a Canada-based MC).

AF: Anything else you’d like to add?

SL: I am grateful for platforms, such as Audiofemme, that provide a space to share a bit of my process and the backstory behind the music. Enjoy “Turn My Head (feat. Emma Maryam)” and thank you!

ONLY NOISE: Cat Power Was My Surrogate Community in the Canadian Wild

Steph Wong Ken at fifteen, on the cusp of discovering Cat Power’s What Would the Community Think.

ONLY NOISE explores music fandom with poignant personal essays that examine the ways we’re shaped by our chosen soundtrack. This week, Steph Wong Ken forges her own community in a frozen Canadian landscape via Cat Power’s unparalleled howl.

I was 15 years old, standing in a music store with vaulted ceilings and white pillars, a former bank turned A&B Sound. My family and I had recently moved from a palm tree-lined street in Florida to a snowy Canadian city surrounded by farmland and flat, open sky. This place is safer than Miami Beach, my parents insisted, and with its sprawling residential neighborhoods, it was, but it was also very quiet and very white. Growing up with a Chinese mother and a Jamaican father, my neighborhood in Miami Beach felt like home, with Jewish, Latino, and Black families living together on one street in discordant harmony. Though I didn’t know many biracial kids in my area or at school, living in that neighborhood made my background feel normal, an important but uneventful fact of life.

The culture shock of moving was physical (puffy coats over Halloween costumes, hockey, face plants on ice), but it was also deeply emotional for a mixed-up teenage girl like me. I wandered around my new high school like a disembodied head and experienced nose bleeds regularly, probably because Western Canada is dry, but at the time, I thought it meant my body was just as freaked out as my brain was. I loitered in the music store down the street from the bus stop to stay warm and found myself in the indie rock section, staring at Cat Power’s album. The cover showed two female faces cut and pasted together with eyes that looked dead, an image that scared me and also made me want to spend $15 so I could take it home to look at it more closely. And the title, What Would the Community Think: a kind of kiss off and a serious question, a title that encapsulated the ambivalence of an outsider who still cared about other people’s feelings.

When What Would the Community Think was released in 1996 on Matador Records, the era of late ’90s alternative rock was also emerging: a steady loop of Stone Temple Pilots, the Red Hot Chili Peppers, Bush, Sublime, Soundgarden, and “One Headlight.” This club of moody dudes with gritty vocals and reverb guitar solos felt beamed in from another planet, somewhere far away from me, and my musical tastes gravitated to the records of my parents – Bob Marley, Aretha Franklin, Marvin Gaye. By the time I found Cat Power in the early 2000s, late ’90s alt rock reverb had been replaced with ultra-masculine nu metal, and her music felt all the more timeless, sealed in a jewel case like a balm. Her vocal styling, her signature rasp, and the rough texture of her recordings seemed like another, more intimate way to explore pain and loneliness.

From then on, Chan Marshall’s voice filled my bedroom, singing in a low voice about being trapped “in a hole,” asking me to come down with her. Some days, I interpreted the hole as a safe place, a spot you dug with your own two hands in the ground to rest. Others, when I walked around empty neighborhoods hooded in ice listening to the album on my Discman, the hole was black and all consuming. The sharper edges of a song like “In This Hole” revealed themselves and I believed Marshall was snarling at a tidy, clean existence right along with me, as though we both knew that something was not right here. Her voice communicated sadness and anger, but it was also exciting to listen to, shifting easily from sweet sentiments like “you’re so beautiful” to the bitter wail of “I can try, try.” Here was someone not afraid to howl about there being no one, about wanting someone, and about finding catharsis in a dark, cold place, with a tinge of possibility. The album cemented my lifelong devotion to Cat Power, but it also helped me gain a sense of control, despite chronic nose bleeds and a budding identity crisis in a small Canadian town. Head back against a wall to stop the blood, tissues balled in my fists, I hummed along with Marshall on her song, “Good Clean Fun:”

All things people do in winter/they all melt down in summer

Eventually, I made a few friends at school and like a test, I played them what I was listening to, often mix CDs that featured tracks from What Would the Community Think and other Cat Power albums I had discovered flipping through the plastic sleeve with her name on it: the slow, shy songs on Myra Lee; the brooding anger of Dear Sir; the upbeat openness of You Are Free. What Would the Community Think remained my favorite. Huddled below the stacks of the Catholic school’s library, a portrait of the Virgin Mary hovering above us, I shared an earbud with a friend that made the cut and we listened to “Nude as the News,” mouthing “Jackson, Jesse, I’ve got a son in me,” trying to replicate Marshall’s mournful wail without alerting the librarian. Do you get this? I was silently asking my friends as I played them song after song. Does this make you feel good too? Only later, studying the lyrics, did I understand that there was trauma and loss in the song, a desire to be powerful without the means to be:

I still have a flame gun for the cute ones
To burn out all your tricks
And I saw your hand
With a loose grip on a very tight ship
And I know in the cold light
There’s a very big man
There’s a very big man
Leading us into
Temptation

Later still, I would read about the song’s backstory, of Marshall’s abortion when she was twenty and the reference to Patti Smith’s sons, Jackson and Jesse, in the chorus. But the very big man that appears, a threatening guide, became a lot of things in my head as I listened to the line over and over again: actual men, God, a force that keeps pushing you into places you don’t want to be.

In the coming years, pushy men took the form of guys recommending music to me, lobbying artists and song titles at parties like power grabs. But I found Cat Power’s music in my own bumbling way; later, I would realize this was a blessing, to be able to hold these songs as my own personal discovery. Marshall herself was instrumental in expanding my musical tastes – much of the music I would come to love I first heard via Cat Power’s covers records. I would move backwards from her versions, seeking out the originals and discovering a long line of artists that have influenced Marshall’s sound, particularly blues and soul singers of the ’60s and ’70s. That habit began with “Bathysphere;” once I’d discovered it was actually a Bill Callahan cover, I dove into his discography, though her version is what got me there.

Sitting in my bedroom, wandering around my icy neighborhood, hiding in the stacks at the library, I listened to Marshall’s albums and got through high school, made some good friends, and tried to adjust to nine months of winter a year. Still, I struggled to find a sense of community day to day, and whenever I would start to feel I was losing control, I would put on those songs and feel calm. Even now, listening to What Would the Community Think gives me a sense of nostalgia for my first experiences with the music, as difficult and messy as they were, and confirms how important the album became to me, my private little space that I could get lost in. Though I’ve heard each song hundreds of times before, howling along to each word still feels just as cathartic.

PREMIERE: Billy Moon “Tangerine Dream”

Punk is a loaded word. It’s been ascribed to popular artists as diverse as New Found Glory, Green Day, and Patti Smith. Graham Caldwell makes music as Billy Moon that expands beyond the label, gifting listeners with a tonally diverse album made for a record player’s full turns.

Punk Songs, Caldwell’s debut LP, contains traces of melancholy wall-of-sound amplitude (see “Big Black Hole”) and mile-a-minute shout-singing (“Dingus”) reminiscent of Parquet Courts. But there are also moments atypical to traditional punk, like the sax solo on “Tangerine Dream,” a make-out anthem that borrows more from Nirvana lyrics than it does from Kosmische music.

We sat down with Caldwell and talked childhood piano lessons, how a riff becomes a song, and his take on the tenuous relationship between drugs and rock ‘n’ roll.

Listen to “Tangerine Dream” from Punk Songs below:

AF: You started playing piano at two years old. Were you naturally inclined or was it a “Tiger Mom” situation?

BM: Honestly, my Dad was really musical but he always felt pressured by his parents to do piano, which was this big point of contention between them. Being that he didn’t want to pressure his own kids the same way, it was my Mom who had set up piano lessons for us. So my Dad was the more musical one, but it was my Mom who set them up. It wasn’t until fourth grade that I started learning guitar – I think I just wanted to start playing a cooler instrument.

AF: What instrument did you write your first songs on? Was piano more by the book?

BM: Yeah, I didn’t know how to write anything myself on piano. I only learned what I had in front of me. It wasn’t until I played guitar that I started writing my own songs.

AF: What were those first songs like? Were they in the punk genre?

BM: The first one was like… four notes. I can still remember it. I was ten. Yeah, that was when I decided I wanted to be punk. Then I really got into the whole ’00s indie phase, so I started writing that kind of stuff.

AF: You started Billy Moon in Hamilton, Ontario. What’s the music scene like there?

BM: Hamilton is a steel town, so maybe it’s comparable to a place like Pittsburgh. I think of it as Canada’s answer to Buffalo, NY. It’s a town that many people in the surrounding area are quick to shit on, but locals have an incredible amount of hometown pride, which is cool. Being a working class city, Hamilton’s main point of pride in history was probably Teenage Head, who were a really great rockabilly style punk act in the ’80s. Currently, this band called The Arkells are the main ambassadors of the city. They’re fairly successful in Canada and recently played a stadium-sized show in Hamilton so I’d say when a lot of people hear Hamilton, they’re one of the things that comes to mind.

The thing about Hamilton is that there was decent music there when I was in University and it was very quickly getting hailed as this hot new scene where all this cool shit was happening. This got all these developers to come in and start buying up property and jacking up the rent, so in a matter of years the “hot new scene” cooled off really fast. More people are moving there because it’s still fairly cheap, but these are people who are buying houses, not necessarily renting.

Holy fuck, my friend just told me Mac Miller died.

AF: WHAT? Oh my goodness… just googled. Holy shit. Have you noticed more drug use in your own scene? I’m a festival goer, so I’m not sure if I can tell.

BM: Look. Fuck that shit. I have friends who do a fuckload of coke and it’s just so normal. And the thing that I hate about cocaine is that it’s the most boring fucking drug there is. That’s it? Really? You just want to talk really fast about how comfortable your jeans are? That’s your drug of choice? People are starting to know people who [accidentally] OD on [coke cut with] fentanyl and they still do coke regularly. I honestly fucking hate it.

And I’m not straight edge by any means, but I’m really not a “drug guy.” I’ve been in at least one sketchy situation where I eventually learned what the meaning of “risk” is, and when I see people continuing to use drugs like that, I feel like they’re just putting themselves in situations where they could die. I have been to four funerals this past year and the one thing you don’t forget is the permanence of death. People don’t fucking get it until it happens to them. We’re so used to living lives that are based around change that we don’t understand what it means to have something happen that can’t change. Where something stops. Where you have to say “that was the last time.”

So people continue to use and take these unnecessary risks. I don’t want to criticize people with addiction problems, but I do feel like there are others who don’t need to do any of this shit and still do because they don’t realize the danger and the consequences.

AF: Do you feel like certain kinds of music romanticize drugs too much? Normalize it to an extreme?

BM: Well here’s the thing about music: musicians that perform songs about using are singing about a fantasy life that part of us wishes we could live. It makes us feel dangerous and powerful so we like that. I loved FIDLAR’s first record but I’m not a heroin addicted skate-rat. I just wish I could be for three-minute chunks of time.

I read somewhere that we want our idols to live the lives we wish we could live, and I think that’s incredibly true. However, I think it’s this double-edged sword of how we want these people to live out our own power fantasies, while taking responsibility for their power isn’t a part of that. It should be, but it ruins the point of it all.

We want to have Lil Pump’s don’t-give-a-fuck attitude so we idolize it, but he’s not going to say to himself: “Oh shit, I should tell people to not abuse prescription painkillers and stay in school.”

AF: Ha! Yeah it would ruin the fun for sure.

BM: It’s just frustrating and sad. The worst part about the “positivity” wave in music was that it gave people this sense of “I’m all about positivity” but does not hold them accountable to anything. It doesn’t even tell people how to vote – as if worker’s rights and environmental protections are just irrelevant as long as you “emit positivity.”

AF: Do you feel a responsibility as an artist to remain current in terms of subject matter? To tackle global warming or workers rights in your own music? Or is it something you speak out on more in your personal life?

BM: I mean, I’m trying to figure out how to ride that line because I’m not Anti-Flag or Rage. There’s lot’s of examples of how music I love touches on important issues. Given the political body that I currently live in (white, cis, male) I get a little nervous speaking on issues that don’t affect me directly, but I still feel that they’re important to speak on. At this point, it’s more just my personal life, but I’m still… sort of in a bubble… being in a rural area 20 minutes away from everything. I don’t run into a lot of political debate out here.

AF: “Play a riff over and over and over again until you’re bored with it, then write another riff and make a song with it before you get bored with that one too”. That’s songwriting as you’ve previously described it. Is that still how you approach the writing process? It starts with a riff?

BM: Yeah… or an idea… a line… a melody. Then I’ll just build the whole song around that. I wrote “Dingus” because I wanted to write a song called “Dingus.” Sometimes it’s just that. I have one that I want to put out in the future called “One Of Us Is Definitely Wrong (And It’s Probably Me).”

AF: “Bedroom” opens the new album and makes a powerful statement that seems to be in reaction to our current dependency on technology. Why did you want to open the record with this: “Do you remember boredom? And the freedom that came with it? We wanted freedom from desires and they just gave us more desires. Constantly carrying an unquenchable thirst. I once filled up notebooks, I had no surface to scroll through.”

BM: There’s a Pete Holmes joke where he talks about Facebook and he says: “What was I doing? Was I shilling wheat?” I was writing. I was writing, drawing, playing guitar, all that shit. It’s like, now they have classes after school because kids don’t know how to do imaginative play anymore. Klosterman had a line where he said “Kids play on computers and it makes them think like computers.” Kids are now learning that in order to be famous or creative you have to be a fucking YouTube star who douses themselves in Nutella because that’s funny for some reason.

Don’t get me wrong – I know that’s not every kid, and it’s… what… generational cycnicism? to say the one that came after you is worse than yours, but I still feel like kids may be given these powerful creation tools with their phones, but it’s causing them to create within those contexts. I’m just a few steps away from being a cynical Gen Xer trying to tell kids how great Sebadoh were.

AF: You worked with animator Tru Dee on the music video for “DWTBA”. The video feels almost like a trippy D.A.R.E. commercial, with The Namma, an innocent fuzzball being influenced by his demonic skeletal friends. Can you tell us more about the video?

BM: I randomly met Tru in Toronto and then a friend recommended that I talk to her to do an animated video. I just wanted to juxtapose the two styles together. Kind of like Jeff Smith’s Bone. That’s really all it was. She does fantastic work and I was just happy that she was into the project. I just wanted the Namma looking cute and throw some “traditional rock’n’roll” images in there too. The Satanic scene came out at the end which I thought looked great.

CBC (Canada’s publicly subsidized broadcaster) has a podcast about a woman escaping NXIVM which is terrifying and insane. I think cult leaders are really just fulfilling a deeply complicated sexual fantasy.

AF: What music do you have on rotation right now? Any new tunes we should check out?

BM: I’m gonna check out the new IDLES. Jonathan Richman is great. U.S. Girls, the new Ezra Furman is great. Oh and I started listening to a bunch of The Coup after watching Sorry To Bother You.

AF: You’ll be doing a U.S. Tour this fall to support the album. What do you want an audience member to take away from a Billy Moon show? Is there a specific feeling or message you try to convey in a live setting?

BM: Just come to the show with a bunch of money and spend it all on merch! I really hope people will feel happy and confident with themselves after seeing it, I hope that it can be inspiring to others. A little glimmer of happiness in a dark confusing world.

Billy Moon’s debut LP Punk Songs will be released September 14th via Old Flame Records.

PREMIERE: Ace of Wands “Float The Flood”

On the minor arcana tarot card from which the Toronto-based band Ace of Wands take their name, a hand reaches out from a cloud to present a flowering branch, signifying inspiration, power, creation, beginnings, and potential. It is with this offering in mind that Lee Rose, the woman behind both the music and the visual storytelling that accompanies it, prepares to release her debut EP 10,000 Feet this Friday. Amplified and enriched by her bandmates, Anna Mernieks (of Beams) on guitar and backing vocals and Jody Brumell (of SHANKS) on drums, the songs on the EP feel more like epiphanies or spells, capable of conjuring expansive visions.

Their newest track, “Float The Flood,” follows the cinematic flair of the band’s previous releases; in Ace of Wands’ music, nature becomes a main character, helping to create a physical space for their ominous, multi-layered sound. In their music videos, forests are seemingly without end, lakes never hit a horizon, and the sky looms above, eternal. Rose has provided art direction for each of these clips, cementing a potent image and creating a thematic through-line to the work. With its jangling guitar and harmonic incantations, “Float the Flood” documents the twisting turmoil of exorcising inner demons.

We spoke with Lee Rose about growing up in the wilds of Canada, how she approaches art direction for her videos, and where sustainability fits into her ethos as a musician. Listen to “Float The Flood” below.

AF: Tell us a bit about your upbringing in Toronto. What did you grow up listening to?

Lee Rose: I grew up in the neighborhood of Parkdale in Toronto. I would say my dad is my biggest musical influence. He is a musician and had an enormous record collection, so I was constantly surrounded by music. I have strong memories of listening to Nirvana and dancing around as a 3-year old. But we listened to all kinds of music – The Fall, Randy Newman, Neil Young, The Ronnettes, Bonnie Raitt and Tom Petty were all staples. My dad also worked at a drop-in center in the neighborhood called PARC – it was a community space primarily for homeless people and psychiatric survivors needing support, and music was a big part of his time there. I have memories of going to PARC to watch the open stages, and hearing my dad write songs about poverty in the city and the stories of the PARC members he worked with. It was a very formative experience for me.

AF: At what age did you start writing your own music?

LR: I started writing lyrics to songs about six years ago, but I have been writing melodies for as long as I can remember. I started a band with my brother Graeme called Rival Boys when I was 17; he did all the lyric writing and I did the singing. I taught myself how to play bass and made up bass lines. But the lyrical poetry has really just started flowing out of me more recently it feels like. I find lyrics are such a key element to a song and I admire so many other songwriters for their poetry. For a long time I was very self-conscious of what I was writing and didn’t feel safe sharing it. I have gotten more confident as I’ve gotten older I guess.

AF: Ace of Wands’ music has an epic, cinematic feel to it. Have you always been drawn to those kinds of lush, layered sounds?

LR: Absolutely! I am a classically trained violinist, and have spent a lot of time playing in orchestras. I have a love for the huge sounds you can achieve with dozens of players, and it’s been fun to experiment with creating lush sounds (that are similar in intent) with a three-piece band. I love layering effects and vocal harmonies to really transport the listener to whatever world I am writing about

AF: In your videos for “10,000 Feet” and “Grown From Good,” nature is focal point. Are these landscapes in your mind when you’re writing?

LR: Yes, for sure. I have such an affinity for natural landscapes, and while I live in the city I always find another kind of peace in nature. I am a gardener when I’m not playing music, so soil and plants and water are always on my mind. They invariably make it into the songwriting!

AF: How do you scout for locations?

LR: Well, mostly we choose places where we can safely film! But I have spent a lot of time in swimming in Georgian Bay and surrounding areas, so it has made it into both videos so far.

AF: You lead art direction for your videos, as well as construction on the key design pieces (like the recycled fabric train in “Grown From Good”). Is sustainability something you incorporate often into your mixed media artwork?

LR: I try to create as little waste as possible when I make things for the videos. But it’s hard! Everything leaves an environmental footprint it seems… but I do my best to use recycled materials. I’m also really interested in having themes that carry through my projects, so that pieces can be reused and repurposed multiple times. We also have had Ceremonial burnings of props in bonfires… maybe not so good for the ozone but it looks cool and disappears! Ha.

AF: Your new single, “Float the Flood,” is yet another song that for me, drew up intense visuals: images of whales lurking beneath the surface of the ocean, boats on fire. Can you give us some insight on how this song was constructed and what the backstory is?

LR: I was going through a really difficult time in a long term relationship when I wrote the song, and was feeling suffocated by having to express hard emotions. I was starting therapy to help with my depression and for the first time was really seeing all the ways I hate myself. I can be very punishing. I was feeling a lot of guilt and anger and was taking a lot out on my partner. I kept seeing images of myself as a fog, a flood and a mess of endless water and murk. I was trying to express how lost I was in the expanse, and how it was effecting the people I love.

AF: Are you at work on a new video?

LR: Yes we are! We are starting to create art for our next video called “Lioness.” This video will introduce our third band member Jody (drums), and will be part performance video. It will incorporate landscape shots of the fall foliage I hope! I wanted to transition between seasons from video to video as well.

AF: The digital download for “Grown from Good” was printed on paper embedded with wildflower seeds and even came with a glass jar of soil. “Float the Flood” also has a creative twist in terms of its download. What can listeners expect?

LR: “Float the Flood” will be available as a digital download, accompanied by a balsa wood glider plane. I’m really interested in the idea of creating ways for our audience to interact with our music beyond just listening. I want to make merch that turns the music into participatory experience, and the idea of ‘play’ is a central part of that. I wanted to make something that would inspire people to literally go outside play. I have found it harder and harder to get our music to people (and actually have them listen to it!) so in trying to think outside the box I found myself drawn to ideas where the music becomes almost secondary to an experience that could facilitate a listeners own personal creativity.

Ace of Wands release 10,000 Feet EP August 17th. If you’re based in Toronto, don’t miss the band’s show at The Horseshoe Tavern on August 18th.

INTERVIEW: Petra Glynt On Making Music That Matters

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Photo by Alex Mackenzie and Mitchell Jón Stafiej

Petra Glynt (a.k.a. Alexandra Mackenzie) isn’t interested in writing love songs. The world is on fire, she has a microphone in her hand, and she wants to you listen to what to she’s laying down.

This Trip is a journey through modern life: government propaganda, climate change, technology, greed. It is a rallying call for a generation poised to make great changes in the world. Considering its dark subject matter, This Trip remains surprisingly upbeat with songs like “Up To The People” playing out like a protest march conga line. It feels like a visual album, with Mackenzie’s voice echoing, shifting, commanding space; the music tells the story of a world on the precipice of disaster, with a few brave warriors ready to do battle.

We sat down with Alex Mackenzie to talk about the forces that inspire her unique sound.

AF: To start, I’d love to hear a bit about your upbringing. At what age did you first take up the artist’s mantle?

PG: I was seven when I went into singing lessons. I was in awe of musicals, and wanted to sing. I took private lessons once a week with the same teacher until I was 18.

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‘Of This Land’ by Petra Glynt. Pen and pencil crayon on illustration board 11′ x 15′.

AF: And did drawing come at a young age too?

PG: Yes! I always drew and made things, but it wasn’t until I was in Toronto for school that I discovered that a person could identify as an artist and go to school for it. So I switched from U of T to OCAD. Art was always a bit more naive in that way.

AF: Tell us about how Petra Glynt was conceived.

PG: It kinda came about in the aftermath of the Occupy Movement. At that point, at the end of summer in 2012, I didn’t have a musical project of my own. I was playing with my partner at the time, but felt really inspired and ready to burst with all kinds of energy from my experience observing and participating in the movement. Up until then I had sang, improvised, and played drums in various bands and musical projects, I felt compelled and ready to start composing my own music.

AF: You wrote the song “This Trip” two years ago, but the song speaks directly to a world in which Trump is president and the earth is in peril due to climate change. You a make a point of saying that Petra Glynt’s music is political AND upbeat. How do you strike a balance between the two?

PG: I started writing “This Trip” when Stephen Harper was the prime minister of Canada. All those feelings I was having towards him, the Canadian government, and the state of the world are magnified now with Trump in power. When I was writing the music for this album I felt a push to be militant, and that still remains, though my writing style and approach have changed. I feel the need to write percussive music and dance music because it’s what moves me personally, and without fail, my lyrics tend to illustrate my stance on the world around me. I’ve never been able to write a love song or something sweet or gentle or frivolous. I tried writing a love song and it became analytical of love instead. I’m not sure if I’ve found the perfect balance yet. I think it’s part of the journey of my life’s work, and I can’t wait to keep reaching for it.

AF: I love this line from “Up to the People:” Up to the people with the green thumbs / Up to the ones sick of reruns. I feel it encourages people to get out and act. With the constant stream of apocalyptic news, it can start to feel like no headway is being made. What are a few actionable steps you’ve found that people can take?

PG: Thank you. The world is undeniably so heavy right now, with the news a combination of racial violence, climate catastrophe, refugee and immigrant injustices, et cetera. Nothing seems to be routing towards the future we need in terms of what we see in the media. But yes, this song is meant to motivate people and encourage a spirit of action, and also bring people up when so much of our reality is really sad and debilitating. I’m not the one to give direct advice to people; it’s not my place to provide answers. But staying skeptical of government and corporations is a good place to start. Don’t expect that they have your back and that they’re looking out for our best interests. Think of ways to take care of yourself, community, family, friends outside of their aid. That may sound paranoid or something, but I think it might inspire the DIY attitude we need to work together. Also, join in on local movements and check your privilege when you walk in the room.

AF: As I researched Petra Glynt and your other music project Pachamama, I found myself going down a rabbit hole in terms of indigenous references. Why is incorporating these ancient symbols and gods important to you as an artist?

PG: In my early art I had a fascination with occult imagery and fantasy, but I stay far away and clear from any sort of cultural or indigenous appropriation. Pachamama was a music project between myself and my partner at the time who is half-Nicaraguan. Pachamama is Spanish for Mother Earth, and is also the title of anarchist Emma Goldman’s 1920s journal/magazine. Protecting indigenous voices and culture is important to me, but I wouldn’t put it in my artwork.

AF: Watching Petra Glynt perform is incredibly galvanizing. How do you prepare to go on stage? Is there a personae you put on?

PG: I love performing. I think a switch just automatically turns on. I get into the music and the music itself requires a meaningful, strong performance. Anything less and it wouldn’t come across well. I don’t know if I have a personae… I think it changes from show to show depending on how I feel, what I want to wear or how I do my make-up. I think ultimately the drive to perform comes from the sheer love of it and sharing the music as intensely and honestly as I can.

AF: Your artwork and your music feels so unabashedly fierce. No reservations. What advice would you give an artist who hesitates, who is maybe struggling to solidify their voice?

PG: That’s a tough one. Everyone has their own comfort threshold in regards to sharing their art and putting themselves in a vulnerable place or in the public eye. Being an artist takes guts in that way. I think if you are working hard and making your best work, you should be proud and unashamed of sharing it. I’ve always been mostly okay with sharing because I’ve been performing since I was a little kid. But I think my anger and frustration towards corporatized government have allowed me to bypass my personal reservations and hesitations. For me, it’s become more important to contribute than not, and for others, art doesn’t always have to be so outright political. Empowerment can be derived from many forms of art-making. I think it’s nice to think of one’s body of work as being tied to periods in our lives. We may not make our best work ALL THE TIME, but there are reasons for that. Our art grows with us as people. Be patient with yourself.

Petra Glynt’s This Trip will be released on Vibe Over Method on October 27th. [/fusion_builder_column][/fusion_builder_row][/fusion_builder_container]

TRACK REVIEW: Lié “Failed Visions”

The world isn’t feeling too positive lately, so a grungy garage rock song feels like just the thing we need to get these emotions out. It’s the sort of track where you can choose to head bang and shout your heart out, or just sit and soak in it, letting it fill you up and expand inside. We have just the right song for these types of moods and circumstances: Lié’s “Failed Visions.”

This trio of Vancouver badasses are cooking up some deliciously grungy post-punk music. Their debut album, Consent, provided social commentary about rape culture as told from the perspective of these three rockin’ ladies. It’s pretty damn relevant to some recent events, and great to hear the voices of strong women speaking their truth and not backing down from some of the more infuriating parts of our system.

“Failed Visions” is a single from their upcoming sophomore album Truth or Consequences, out August 12. Check out their single and let these tunes fill you up rather than rage, disappointment, and the slew of other negative feelings many of us are holding onto lately.

Tag: Canada