PLAYING DETROIT: Jena Irene Asciutto debuts “Cold Fame”

What if I told you that a former American Idol runner-up wrote a power ballad about medical marijuana? And what if I told you that this same, 20 year-old reality TV competitor released one of the most well-rounded, wildly mature pop records just last week? Okay, okay. Last hypothetical. What if I told you that Farmington Hills native Jena Irene Asciutto doesn’t give a fuck what you think? Cold Fame carefully balances innocence, rebellion and the space between the spotlight and the darkness.

Asciutto’s soaring vocals paired with the thoughtfully lush (but perfectly restrained) arrangements allow the lyrical content to swell, sink and float with pop magic. “So I Get High” finds a pro-pot Asciutto defending marijuana so cleverly that it could just as easily be a Bible study anthem. The imagery of “Floating Down the River” invokes a listless defiance with lyrics like “You can fuck me for free/Use each other till the morning/Then I’ll ask you to leave/I can’t give you my energy” masterfully masked with a radio-ready sweetness. And then there’s Amy Winehouse inspired and indiscreet “White Girl Wasted” complete with handclaps, ska horns and frequent use of “No fucks given.” What is most remarkable about Asciutto’s debut journey and rebirth is her commitment to being unapologetic no matter what genre she explores or which message she delivers. This consistent dance of acceptance and resistance is what makes Asciutto wise beyond her years yet so totally and honestly representative of being 20 in 2017.

Smoke the day away and vibe out with the new princess of pot below:

PLAYING DETROIT: Cheerleader “Bitchcraft”

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There is nothing coy about Flint-based Cheerleader’s first full-length album, Bitchcraft. It is a riotous collection of defiant anti-apologies, that if delivered in any way other than Cheerleader’s impenetrable assault, would reinforce the very holding back they’re fighting against. Bitchcraft is the ultimate “fuck you” manifesto aimed to destroy, disarm, and devour the state of counterrevolution. Fully equipped with an advanced artillery of punk purism and unflinching feminism, Bitchcraft doesn’t knock. It grants itself permission.

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The power of Christina “Polly” McCollum (lead vocals, guitar), Ashley MacDermaid (bass), and Nisa Seal (drums) is not contingent on image, labels or accessibility, rather their undeniable cohesion in being able to tear down the construct and crippling societal misogyny without compromising sincerity. The album opens with a shrill “WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR, HUH? WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?” which feels more like a dare than a question. The words bleed into the opening track “Beauty Queen” where McCollum delivers the first of many deafening blows with repeating the lines “I am more than my body.” Although the album clocks in just over 23 minutes, don’t mistaken its brevity for a shortcut. Quite the contrary. Cheerleader is free of filler or watery withdrawals, saying what needs to be said without finding polite euphemisms to spare feelings. Closing out the track “Friday Night Bites” during an Addams Family worthy bass line, McCollum exclaims: “No one cared about you then/no one cares about you now,” a testament to that one thing we have always wanted to say to that person we’ve always wanted to say it to. That’s the beauty of the anti-beauty of Cheerleader’s debut album. They have found a way to inspire without the squishy connotation.

To say this is an important record for women is like saying it’s wet when it rains. The overarching message of reprisal through rebellion and tenacity channeled by audacity is what, when conjoined with their tightly woven, Bikini Kill sludge, elevates Bitchcraft from an argument to an uprising.

Listen to Bitchcraft in its entirety here and check out the track “Beauty Queen” below:

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PLAYING DETROIT: Earth Engine’s Debut EP

Playing Detroit

What. The. Hell. Is. This? 

Rarely do I say this about music. Perhaps I’m a bit jaded, but while all of us lovers were kissing on Valentine’s Day, Detroit-based Earth Engine dropped their self-titled debut EP, a beautifully confused collection nearly five years in the making. Earth Engine’s EP is a spastic, satiated cluster of baroque rock that has wrangled a plethora of genres and in the process created their own. Although it sounds schizophrenic the first time around, it becomes progressively more coherent. If King Crimson collaborated with MUSE on some hyper-theatrical Jeff Buckley directed stage production of how the universe was created (and how it will subsequently be destroyed), you might be able to understand where Earth Engine is coming from. For an EP that carries a tangible weightiness and at times delves into disparity, there is an ethereal airiness to its structure and intricate layering that takes the album into cathartic flight (and the listener along with it).

“Red River” is a slinky Dead Weather-ish caffeinated jazz jam that shifts gears into “A Fever of Static,” which opens with classic piano that morphs into a jutting, metallic, percussion heavy nod to anthemic rock. And just when you thought you were getting the hang of Earth Engine’s aesthetically challenging vibe comes the closing track (and my personal favorite) “Year One” where the tension from the previous tracks finally breaks through the atmospheric barrier into masterful resolve. You hear the protagonist overcome defeatism or whatever earthly shackles were holding him to the ground. “I rather die than wait,” he repeats with whispered heroism, adding “I’ve never been one to yield to reason,” which, in context, is a beautifully understated summary of the entirety of the EP.

My dozen or so listens have not answered my original question. In fact, it has been replaced with “What. The. Hell. Was. That?” Earth Engine caught me off guard and off balance. I am completely enthralled by this unexpectedly powerful EP that carries with it a determination that I feel that rock music has been missing for the past decade. Excitedly, I am left scratching my head while making room for new feelings, genre-defying reference points, and redefined sensations of unconventional beauty. Earth Engine is on to something (and I’ll be the first to tell you as soon as I figure it out).

Listen to the entire EP below.

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PLAYING DETROIT: Moonwalks “Lunar Phases”

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Few bands are as aptly named as psychedelic Detroit four piece, Moonwalks, whose upcoming release Lunar Phases could act as a wild, yet tailored, road map to uninhabited galaxies and black holes, alike. The band’s first LP, scheduled to release via cassette tape and digital download later this month (MANIMAL Vinyl) is as warm as it is cooly intergalactic and is as 1960’s retro as it is refreshingly modern. Collectively, Jake Dean (guitars/vocals) Kate Gutwald (bass), Kerrigan Pearce (drums) and Tyler Grates (guitar) admit to being moved by the production of old Lee Hazlewood records, which makes sense, considering Lunar Phases has an undeniably sultry, Western-shootout vibe. (If the shootout was between aliens and cowboys, directed by a 90’s Tarantino respectfully.) “We’re becoming more collaborative as a four piece,” says Grates. “When making music, it’s important for me not to consider any influences I have at the time. Anything can sound like everything. However, it’s a little different in the recording process. We all have similar taste but different ideas, so we’re constantly coming up with different landscapes of sound.” More than Brian Jonestown Massacre-esque jam rock moments or sedated Jeffry Lee Pierce vocals, Moonwalks’ sound is the figurative dusting off of something once lost. Like water on Mars, Lunar Phases taps into what you thought you knew, but with an exploratory freshness best suited for lovers of reverb, distortion, and unexpectedly emotive cosmic collisions of past and present.

What is most surprising of their debut LP is the seamless cohesion not only between tracks, but in Moonwalks’ shared cadence, notably in their confidence in letting each instrument/effect have space to swell, breathe, and explode. This is glaringly apparent on vocal-less track “Cream Cheese Ashtray,” a demanding instrumental that gives the aural illusion of bending time; warped but never “off,” askew but never elementary nor hesitant. Delay heavy track, “Painted Lady” (one of two songs named after beloved Detroit bar/venues) is reminiscent of early Black Rebel Motorcycle Club minus the cliche hook/verse progression, artfully distorting your notion of what comes next; another example of Moonwalks’ ability to give new life to the already familiar.

Lunar Phases is, for the lack of a better word, mature. The album, a richly dynamic and attentive mosaic just under thirty minutes long, manages to achieve the robust fluidity that most bands don’t find until their second or third release (if at all). With extensive touring planned for the coming year and by the sounds of it, more studio time, too, Moonwalks exudes a completeness but with ample room to morph, grow, and reimagine. “I think were becoming tighter as a band,” Grates explains. “We’re getting more comfortable with playing shows and touring around the country. I think if the four of us weren’t in a band together, we’d still be hanging out all the time.”

While we await the release of Lunar Phases, satisfy your hunger by checking out Moonwalks’ 2014 EP:

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