When asked what inspired her latest single “Shame,” Jess Nolan responds, “I keep coming back to this idea that shame is the tool of the oppressor.” She’s referencing ideology from author and podcast host Brene Brown, and though her song (and its video, premiering today on Audiofemme) comes from a place of personal contemplation, her aim is to liberate anyone who can relate. “Shame is used to oppress people, and it has been historically for so long, and when we use it against ourselves, we hurt ourselves and we hurt other people through that too.”
The indie pop singer-songwriter – originally from New Jersey, now based in Nashville – has crafted a lyrically rich anthem of freedom where shame takes on the form of a woman who arrives in her darkest hour, extinguishing her inner confidence. The songstress uses her lyrics to speak directly in defiance of the disparaging voices in her head, knowing that freedom is within her grasp.
“I live with shame for simply walking around, but I still believe in freedom, I trust that freedom is on it’s way,” she sings vulnerably over a simple, yet haunting melody of gently strummed guitar, piano and echoing strings. It’s this sense of freedom that
In an organic video comprised of Polaroid footage, Nolan and director Emerson Kyle juxtapose a sense of paralysis (limbs spilling over a piano bench, Nolan sprawled on black and white tile) with intention (tending to plants, painting watercolor blossoms), culminating in a stunning drone shot of Nolan’s graceful backstroke through murky water. “I wanted to show the progression of freeing myself through the video,” Nolan explains. “I wanted to encapsulate that feeling of being paralyzed or stuck or frozen, and as the video progresses, you see that I move outside. Emerson had this idea of getting that shot of me swimming and that being the freeing moment, freeing myself in the water and in nature.”
As a woman who has been in the music industry since the age of 12, the now 27-year-old describes how shame manifested in the stigma of feeling like she wasn’t “enough,” constantly striving for unattainable perfection. But after experiencing a bought of writers block, she had a breakthrough while writing “Shame” at the piano in her Nashville home.
“The song was the turning point for me being like I’m going to free myself from anything that’s holding me back, whether that’s outside of me or the voice in my own head that will stop me from trying things just because I want it to be perfect instead of just jumping and going for it,” she professes.
This applies not only to making music, but also to Nolan’s burgeoning role as an activist. “I’m learning, through the activism that I’ve been doing this year, it’s better to show up imperfect than to not show up at all,” she continues. “Striving for constant perfection in our personal lives and in music can really be a detriment and can hold us back from showing up authentically. That was a hurdle that I had to get over and I’m so glad that I’m continuing to do that work and not allowing that fear of being imperfect stop me from showing up.”
One of the song’s most powerful moments comes at its end, as Nolan gently, but confidently chants “freedom” while five female artists (Jasmine Mullen, Georgia English, Hadley Kennary, Rochelle Feldkamp and Becca Richardson) recite lines from her poetry. The words and unity reflect Nolan’s contemplative journey while creating her full-length debut album From Blue to Gold,released in August. While the project’s first four numbers are love songs, “Shame” is strategically placed as the sixth song, marking a more introspective space of self-examination. Nolan cites “Shame” as the north star of the album, symbolizing her journey from darkness to light as she finally finds the freedom she’d been searching for – a gift she hopes listeners gain as well.
“The song is dark in the beginning and it shifts to this hopeful thing and that’s the record in itself. There’s that turn of ‘there’s hope here,’ and the hope is in connecting with each other,” she expresses. “I hope that the message resonates with [listeners] enough to free themselves from anything holding them back, that it would inspire people of all genders and races to not let those fears of other people and their thoughts about you stop you from living out your deepest desires and dreams for yourself and to not let that voice in your head stop you. We have to speak kindness to ourselves if we want to be better people in the world and I think it starts with truly accepting yourself and allowing yourself to be free.”
“In a little while, there’ll be nothing left for me to unpack,” sings San Francisco’s Maggie Gently on her new EP, Good Cry. Created during the various phases of a friendship dissolution, Gently isn’t trying to convince others that closure is imminent, so much as she’s trying to convince herself, as she works her way through the EP’s five tracks.
In many ways, the EP feels less like five distinct songs and more like a long, rambling letter. This isn’t inherently an issue — I’ve readily expressed my appreciation for concept/single-subject works before — but it does make the best tracks stand out all the more clearly, while pushing the others further into the background.
The lyrics are quite vague — perhaps purposefully so — to the point that you would likely assume Gently was speaking about a former partner as opposed to to a friend. It has been repeated many times over that friendship breakups can be as painful as romantic ones, but such statements are frequently delivered with a sly question mark at the end. Is it really true? Can someone who never called you their romantic partner enact the same hurt as someone who did?
Of course they can, but that voice of doubt is more likely to come from within ourselves as opposed to outside doubters, fueled by the unfortunate concept that any soul-deep pain that doesn’t involve a significant other is not deserving of any real attention.
Why can’t you just get over it?
Gently, in this EP, does not seem to want to, but has taken her wallowing and turned it into something tangible, maybe even cathartic — good advice if I’ve ever heard it. “I always said it would all be worth it/if I could matter to just one person,” Gently sings on EP opener “Every Night,” offering one of the best and most profound examples of Good Cry’s straightforward lyrical style. “Run Away” gives us a bit of a respite from the indie-pop ease of the other tracks, with a folky intro where Gently lets her voice go soft as she sings, “When I wake up I check my breathing/I know that I’m ok without you.” About halfway through, the song makes a jump to rock, even as Gently keeps her voice largely even. While I wish she would really let loose on moments like this, the guitar backing is expressive enough to keep the emotions feeling big. “I used to have so much/and now I’ve got none/and I’m hungry,” she sings on “Normal,” one of those EP’s best tracks and, tellingly, one of the few with a distinct glimmer of hope at the end of the tunnel.
Occasionally, Gently sacrifices meaning for simplicity, like on EP closer, “Tranquility,” where she asks, “I don’t know if I deserve to feel any better, but I’ll still get serious/Take a look at my resume and cover letter — do I have any experience?” The first minute of the song sounds like it would fit nicely over a montage scene in a mid-2000s rom com a lá 13 Going on 30 (another work that, fundamentally, is about friendship), with a mid-tempo rhythm that sets the listener up nicely for a high-energy finish. It never arrives – not exactly – as Gently leads us out on an unrealized wish: “I wish I’d take a break/from circling round inside of my head again.” It’s so telling that she ends on that word, again. Gently knows it’s not over, at least not in her head — so here we go, repeat button, repeat album, repeat brain.
Despite the fact that Gently never makes the nature of the central relationship explicit in the lyrics, it feels like a disservice to suggest that this EP should be used as universal catharsis for someone in the throes of relational loss. While in other circumstances I would be the first person to say that art is interpretive, blah blah blah, I feel like the context here is essential. It comes down to this: the more accepting we are of the impact of non-romantic friendships on our self-perception, the closer we will get to dissolving those question marks we assign to our own pain — and the closer we will get to burning that letter.
Follow Maggie Gently on Facebook for ongoing updates.
In the midst of a tour supporting their sophomore breakout album 88 92, Houston indie band Wild Moccasins were breaking up. Founding members Zahira Gutierrez and Cody Swann had been romantically involved for nearly a decade at that point, and as the band’s lineup expanded and contracted, amassing fans along the way, they remained its constant core, despite the personal turmoil between them. It all became fodder for their 2018 LP on New West Records, Look Together, centered on the deterioration of their relationship and their determination to keep moving forward for the sake of the music.
That narrative, of course, made its way in to everything written about the project. But just over a year later, the band has returned with a fresh perspective on what they’ve been through, where they’re going next, and a new video for the LP’s lead single “Boyish Wave.” Referencing French New Wave films of the ’60s – or, more specifically, their trailers – like Louis Malle’s Elevator to the Gallows, Jean-Luc Godard’s Weekend and Breathless, Alain Resnais’ Last Year at Marienbad, Agnès Varda’s Cleo from 5 to 7, and the love triangle in François Truffaut’s Jules and Jim– the visual pokes fun at the drama that nearly destroyed them and officially caps off the album cycle as the band gears up for the next big thing.
“If you watch the trailers for all these films, they’re very dramatic, and they’re telling you what the film is about, but they’re also extremely ambiguous,” Gutierrez explains when we talk over the phone. “You’re just getting the best lines, seeing the most dramatic parts of whatever relationship is going on in the film.” This particular clip sees Gutierrez caught in a love triangle with Swann and Wild Moccasins drummer Avery Davis, following them through surreal scenes, subtitles and all. Seemingly taken out of context, the video is a trailer for a movie (or a relationship) that will never exist. “All of the most dramatic things you could say to to each other or do with each other when you’re going through a relationship are just kind of condensed into this like fake trailer,” Gutierrez says.
There’s no concrete timeline, narrative, or reality, which Swann says adds to the feeling of conflict. “But one thing we were trying to touch on,” he adds, “Is that when dating, you end up going to a lot of the same places with different people – your favorite restaurant, favorite place, favorite park. And a lot of times we live these mirrored moments, but we wanted to touch on the very positive aspect of how even something so familiar can be made completely new when you’re with the person you want to be with.”
The band plotted the “Boyish Wave” video shot for shot while on tour behind Look Together, releasing self-directed videos for “No Muse,” “Doe-Eyed Dancer,” and “Longtime Listener” with the same production team in the meantime. Swann says the band narrowed down the list of potential shots from around a hundred to about sixty, and that though it was extensively planned, they couldn’t account for all the “happy accidents.”
“A lot of that goes out the window whenever a shot doesn’t work out the way we thought it would, or sometimes a throwaway becomes the thing that everything hinges on,” Swann says. A perfect example is the still that became the video’s screen cap: Gutierrez points a prop gun at Swann from the opposite side of a picture frame he’s holding – Swann says he found the frame on the side of the road the day before the video shoot. It had such surprising visual impact, he says, “we had to arrange around it afterwards.”
The band remained heavily involved as the rest of the video came together. “Most cinematographers will not let you sit in through the editing process but we actually sat through the editing process from beginning to end and looked at every single scene and shot that we filmed and placed them carefully,” Gutierrez remembers. The subtitles were pulled from a notebook Swann has kept for nearly fifteen years, writing down quotes from his friends – and from Guitierrez, too.
“Most of the lines that are featured as dialogue are things that Zahira said maybe ten years ago, and she’s like, ‘I remember saying that!’ and I’m like, ‘Well it’s been sitting in my notepad for ten years,'” Swann chuckles.
Meanwhile, more than a year after putting out “Boyish Wave” as a single, the song itself has taken on new meanings, as both Swann and Gutierrez explored new relationships (and watched those end as well, due to the band’s relentless touring schedule). “We’ve all been through it together as a band,” Gutierrez says. “[On tour], you’re essentially living with the same people for a year and a half. There will be some sort of drama. The way I feel now looking back, everything needed to happen the way that it has happened for us to move on to the next step. As a band, I think our main goal is when we do something new we want it to be different, get out of our comfort zone. There were a lot of emotional moments but it all needed to happen for us to end up here.” She adds, “with the video, I don’t think the script could have been made when the song came out a year ago. Certain things had to happen – we had to go through things as people, as a band – for it to come out the way that it did.”
Swann says that growth as a band gave them the confidence they needed “to do something as scary as the next step.” Rather than participate in another grueling tour, both agree they’d like to “act with more of a sense of urgency” as Swann puts it. “If there’s one thing we’ve learned through the process of making these albums, it’s that the amount of time that goes into making one always keeps you away from entertaining. And you don’t get to make an album when you’re out touring. And we’d like to do both a little more often.”
“We are trying to figure out a balance. This last record, we went through a very intense studio/writing process and a very intense touring process,” Gutierrez says, adding that the band is always writing, but is leaning toward stand-alone releases, rather than a full album, in this transitional phase.
Evidently, the turmoil has only made the friendships within the band stronger – the fire to the fuel Wild Moccasins need as they begin their next chapter. “Though there’s always something new, there’s always something that we’re moving on to, it’s been really an absolute pleasure to get to grow with Zahira through all of it, through each step,” Swann confesses. “That’s something I don’t take for granted – that friendship that started with us as kids in a band and got us where we are now.”
Experimental pop artist Fay Kueen enjoys blurring the lines between classical music and indie rock. The video for her latest song “Atmospheric Zebra” bends space and time, following Kueen around New York City as the city morphs and twists around her. The song was written in 2013, during a time when Kueen’s US citizenship was in flux (she was raised in Bejing). The video makes a clear delineation between Kueen’s avant-garde sound and her struggle for naturalization: disorienting turns, barriers, moments of confusion and panic followed by long stretches of uneasy silence.
It follows, then, that “Atmospheric Zebra” has an off-kilter vibe, with cryptic lyrics and lots of tension. “Ten islands in silence. Nine cats in the bed. Eight birds in purse. Seven days without jays. Six months chasing over five nightlines. Four souls in three bowls. Two horses play morse. One man with no hands, he stays,” Kueen titters slowly into the camera, her vocal patterns playing out like a cat sneaking up on a wounded bird. Kueen plays with that feeling of anxiety, winding up the listener to an almost uncomfortable point, never quite letting you settle in or make yourself home.
In an interview with Audiofemme, Kueen explains that the discomfort is directly tied to a period in her life where she was without a home, feeling lost between two continents – a theme that runs throughout her forthcoming EP, A Place Called Home Is Not A Place, out December 4. Watch AudioFemme’s exclusive premiere of “Atmospheric Zebra” and read our interview with Fay Kueen below.
AF: Your mom was a soprano singer and your dad is a musicologist. Would you say that your initial interest in music was mostly a familial shove or were you always drawn to it?
FK: Doing classical music definitely came more from a familial shove. I grew up listening to lots of classical music and started playing piano when I was 4, but I was never really drawn into the music. I appreciated it but it never felt personal to me – perhaps it just doesn’t fit my personality and vibe. With piano, I was one of those kids that didn’t really like practicing other people’s music, but was always improvising tunes and little songs. With singing, I grew up hearing my mom sing opera, but starting in middle school I got much more interested in trying to mimic pop/rock singers. My dad often bought me western pop records from abroad, and I collected cracked CDs from indie record stores in Beijing myself. I wouldn’t say that it was so much a teenage rebellious thing to be drifting away from my family’s tradition, more a natural process of self-discovery. Classical music is very prim and proper, but I like things that are free, wild and don’t restrict my body, emotions, or senses.
AF: You studied at Beijing’s Central Conservatory of Music (the composition program). During those years, you said you hung out with “Chinese hipsters” and listened to a good deal of Western indie music. What artists were inspiring to you back then?
FK: After getting into the composition program in CCOM Beijing, I started appreciating contemporary classical composition more. I got to know lots of modern composers’ music, which was much more intriguing to me than traditional classical music. I became friends with electronic musicians, sound engineers, and rock instrumentalists. I had a few casual bands that played regular gigs at bars and hotels. Back then I was really into bands like Radiohead, Portishead, Pink Floyd… more on the moody/intense side. A lot of big-name female rockstars from the last generation like Bjork, PJ Harvey, Patti Smith, Kate Bush, Tori Amos… also influenced me a lot, as well as younger ones like Fiona Apple. Me and a group of my friends were super nerdy about the Japanese rockstar Shiina Ringo and we even had a band that covered her songs.
AF: What music artists do you have on repeat nowadays?
FK: I listen to different stuff depending on my moods and what’s going on in my life. I often like playing down-tempo trip-hop tracks on loop when I’m cooking. I have a playlist of walking music, which includes music from Kendrick Lamar to The Prodigy. I still like listening to Radiohead’s later records and recently I’ve been really into some vintage disco music from the ’80s. When I’m depressed I tend to listen to dark music to be healed. This past summer when I was feeling somewhat hopeless, I was listening to David Bowie’s last album before he died a lot, the soundtrack from the German Sci-fi show DARK, and Ryuichi Sakamoto’s latest solo record since recovering from his cancer. Recently I’ve been looping songs from Mitski’s latest album, as well as the new album of my friend’s band San Fermin.
AF: Give us a glimpse into your writing process. Do you keep a notebook with ideas? Do you normally have source material you draw from or is your work more autobiographical?
FK: When I have immediate ideas in terms of song structures and arrangements, I’ll type those down in my phone. When vocal melodies come across my mind, I’d record them with my phone too. When I’m writing something like an orchestra piece, I write a sketch or short score using keyboard to try out chords, and then expand and orchestrate using a scoring program. When I’m producing songs, the vocal lines and the chords often come into existence together – they can’t be separated, since the chords contain the signature colors for the melodies. Then I arrange the whole song in an audio workstation, usually Logic Pro. The songs often have a basic theme first, but the detailed lyrics actually always come after the music.
The content of my songs goes in phases. I’d say most of my songs so far are autobiographical. They are always about a personal experience, an emotional state, or how I feel after watching/attending something. Some of the lyrics that I wrote for my Chinese pop songs are more like contemporary poems. But you could also say that there is source material that I draw from, since there is always a subject or a character in each song, such as a samurai, a dream interpreter, etc. The songs in this EP are more abstract, and I was influenced a lot by surrealist artists. Each song has a lot of objects and images in it, each of which has a story behind it. Right now I’m working on a new set of songs that’s more influenced by modern social events, culture, and common psychological issues within different groups of people.
AF: “Atmospheric Zebra” has such beautiful tension in it, this kind of winding up it does throughout the piece. What was the idea behind the video?
FK: I wrote this song after I left Yale and was basically homeless, moving between temporary places while going through an intense breakup and other personal crises. The song’s lyrics are a bunch of unrelated objects that form the shape of a larger object, inspired by Dali’s surrealist paintings. I named the song for a zebra because of the animal’s black and white looping pattern, which – like a tree’s growth rings or a time tunnel – represents Nietzsche’s idea that with infinite time and a finite number of events, events will recur again and again infinitely. In the music, these loops are represented as multi-layered repeating patterns in the background of the song. The second part of the song kind of falls apart, then puts itself back together for a last chorus, echoing the way I felt my own life moving into chaos and self-destruction, then putting itself back together again.
The video was shot in multiple places in NYC within 24 hours. My composer friend Pugan Zhang carried one camera and one stand. This was his first video work – he filmed and edited everything himself. We treated the video like an experiment and a game. I brought a few dresses with me, dressed completely different styles in different locations and times. We started shooting at abandoned buildings in Brooklyn, in subways, and in central park. The fun part was shooting the scene at Time Square next to the policemen and cars. There were a lot of people running around us and we had to find the right timing to take the quick shots without annoying them. The video has lots of sections and fragments of various lengths and paces, which are all shuffled up: some are flashbacks, some are flash forwards, also fast forwards and reverse in different paces, to match the time theme of the song.
AF: The song was written in 2013, during the time you were struggling with your immigration status. Can you tell us more about the themes on your upcoming album A Place Called Home Is Not A Place?
FK: As an immigrant, home doesn’t feel like a physical place, but an inner space that contains a feeling of security, or an individual that makes you feel like home. The title track is like a spirit flying across the world, observing and experiencing all the natural events – the lives in the Dead Sea, the wolves on Siberian Plain. One of them was actually a real story – the “suicidal” cows that threw themselves off a cliff in Lauterbrunnen. And eventually when the human body and nature become one, “home” is ourselves and is everywhere on this planet.
[The lyrics for] “Larpo Neptune” are a set of self-conflicting activities/ideas, representing the struggles between oneself and the surrounding environment. “Bunny Bastard” is kind of playing with that same idea of juxtaposing conflicting ideas – gentle bunny vs. evil bastard – and the title is a homophone of Honey Mustard.
AF: How are you planning on performing this album? Will you have a band tour along with you?
FK: Me and my dudes – guitarist Brendon Randall-Myers and drummer Mark Utley – are playing a show as a trio on November 20 at Berlin Under A in New York. We might keep this set for a while. When it comes to tour, I hope to add one more player in the band. If it’s a bigger space, I’d like to have a fuller set and maybe include a couple of classical instruments.
AF: Do you ever have difficulty translating studio work to the stage or do you work with other musicians in studio already, making it more seamless?
FK: The arrangements of the studio versions are often different from their live versions. I do basically all the studio arrangements myself. My husband Brendon records the guitar parts, and my long-time collaborator producer Mark Lee does all the mixing and mastering and has a lot of input on the programming/production side. I always need to do new arrangements for the live shows. When I have good musicians, they will have awesome ideas themselves after hearing the recordings. I really like working with Brendon and the other Mark (the drummer) – I feel like musically we understand each other and cope with each other easily.
AF: What advice do you have for a young musician just starting to find their voice as an artist?
FK: I’m not a very good advisor since I believe that I’ve made bad choices in my life before, and I’ve been really slow on getting things done. My music career has gone in many directions to fit my different needs and tendencies. I’d say always follow your intuition at the moment and never doubt your abilities, never wait or be distracted by others’ comments. Everyone’s different, and it’s important to find what type of artist you are, whether that’s a multi-phased experimental artist, or just digging deep into one thing. Focus on the characters that define the real you, and don’t hesitate to look for the right way to amplify them.
A Place Called Home Is Not A Place is out Dec 4th. Follow Fay Kueen on Facebook or @fay_kueen on Instagram for ongoing updates.
Credit where it’s due to Madi Sipes & The Painted Blue for maintaining a consistent aesthetic. The album art for the last few singles look like snapshots from the underground parlor of a lovelorn 1940s tattoo artist who hasn’t skipped a day of adding her beauty mark in the last 10 years. Their latest, “Heavy Heart,” features the same boudoir red-and-blue lighting as the previous follow-ups to their 2018 full-length debut Privacy, but this is the first snap in which a body actually appears, wrapped in comically large chain to represent the weight — both emotional and (seemingly) physical — of romantic attachment.
On first listen, melancholy oozes from the opener, but there is a palpable energy and odd optimism in the lyrics that undercuts the moody guitars and tinkling 80’s piano. Sipes’s voice is deep and rich, sliding through harmonies and call-and-responses in a way that makes me question if this was production magic or if Sipes is, simply, a sort of musical hydra who can create her own chorus of smokey-voiced clones at will.
Its previously-released b-side, “I’ll Be Ready When You Are,” starts out with a very Marvin Gaye-esque riff that carries a hint of the song’s more sensual leanings, despite an early switch to more low-key piano backing. It certainly works in tandem with “Heavy Heart,” but the latter’s more complicated production and glam guitar solo allow Sipes and her bandmates Nick Cunningham (bass, synth) and Caleb Koehn (drums, sampling), to elevate the tune to a more modern place.
This is a sensual piece of work, but the sense of coolness is steadfast, both literally (I love Sipes’s immediately recognizable voice) and sonically. The tones are bright, the beats like the gentle back-and-forth of pool waves. Listening feels like stepping into open space, even with the intimate lyrics.
Only a few years ago, it was no surprise to hear an Atlanta musician say, “I’m moving to Nashville to play music.” It makes sense, right? It is the music capital of the South – or, at least it was. But for Nate Cain, lead vocalist and guitarist of the tart-pop quartet The Hipps, the opposite was true. After a stint in Tennessee, he made the decision to return home to Atlanta and pick up where he left off, alongside childhood friend and keyboardist James Deveau, drummer Wade Sullivan, and bassist and vocalist JT.
Following the January release of their latest single, “Take It Off My Hands,” I caught up with Nate to talk about the transition from solo songwriter to lead vocalist in an incandescent pop band, the first good song he ever wrote, and his favorite music venue in the city.
AF: Let’s start with the basics! How did The Hipps form? Were you all involved in bands growing up, or was it something you became interested in as you got older?
NC: The keyboard player, James Deveau, and I have known each other through friends since we were both in high school. When I graduated, we lost contact, and I was playing music in Tennessee while going to school. I decided to move back to Georgia and when I did, I made sure to contact James and start working together again. From there, I met the other guys working at a music shop in Alpharetta. We all come from different sorts of backgrounds, so our music definitely has some unique vibes to it.
AF: What initially inspired you to pick up an instrument or write a song?
NC: I actually started writing when I was in sixth grade. I think initially I just wanted to create something, and that’s what I enjoyed the most. I tried to start a band and got three other kids at my house to put together some makeshift sounds. I remember my buddy looking at me after I played what I thought was the best out of the three of the songs I had written, and he just was like, “We can’t play that, man.” So I think for the next couple of years, my audience remained my dog in my room. I just wrote bad song after bad song until I finally got one right. From there, I guess I just got addicted to writing.
AF: Who do you consider your greatest musical inspirations? Are the bands who have inspired your sound different from the bands that you listen to when you’re just hanging out?
NC: I’d say we’re all somewhat predictable in that we like everything. Like, none of us are super against any genre. But then again, there’s almost always artists that someone listens to that no one’s ever heard of, right? I think for me specifically, I’d have to say some influences that I can’t ever get out of my system are Father John Misty, Darwin Deez, and James Taylor. Those are three that I just have never stopped listening to. I love the integrity of their art. Interestingly, when I am just listening to music casually, usually I’m just trying to find something new. Whether it’s pop, indie, rap, country, or whatever. Lately, I’ve actually been listening to ton of Lennon Stella. She’s great.
AF: You guys just released a song, “Take It Off My Hands,” and it’s so rad. Can you walk us through your creative process? What inspired it, and how was it different from other songs you’ve written before?
NC: So I actually wrote “Take It Off My Hands” about four or five years ago. It’s a pretty simple song. Back then, I was going for more of what Darwin Deez does. Which I guess is sort of like sweet, hyper-indie, sorta bedroom pop sounding tunes. Just go listen to “Bad Day” by him and you’ll see what I mean. But “Take It Off My Hands” was slower, more simple, and definitely a deeper concept than what I was comfortable with singing about at the time. I was going through a pseudo identity crisis, and that’s what the song is about. It also brings in the idea that you need support and love from people to make it through life.
AF: How has your creative process changed since The Hipps was formed?
NC: Back when I wrote that song, and really up until the time when I formed The Hipps, I pretty much wrote all the songs by myself and then brought it to musicians and had them learn my parts. Back then, I was just trying to dip my music into the local scene where I could, here and there, while being in school and in Little Moses, another band I played lead guitar in with Nick Carpenter (now known as Medium Build). Now it’s completely different. At this point, I’ve dived into the deep end with The Hipps. It’s my baby, and we’re not gonna stop pushing as hard as we can. Ultimately that means we’re a team and we write songs and finalize arrangements together. That being said, when we’re in the studio, a lot of things change. That’s partially due to wanting the song to come out better and realizing places where we could’ve done better, but also we’re super thankful to be working with Paul Rogers and Jimmy Mansfield. Paul finds genius pockets of secret sunshine in arrangements that I never would’ve thought of, and Jimmy is an incredible engineer. We’re thrilled with how “Take It Off My Hands” came out, and so excited to show you guys what else we’ve got.
AF: What’s been your proudest moment as a band?
NC: I think we’d all agree that our release party for our single would probably be that moment. It was a relatively small show of maybe 150 people at 529 in East Atlanta Village. The moment was playing the last chorus of that song and being able to step back from mic ’cause the audience was loud and clearly knew the words. I think that was cool for all of us, having worked hard to get a great sounding song out in existence and literally hearing what we had worked on sung back at us. But we keep having great moments, and hopefully that will continue. We’ve had the chance to open for Trongone Band, The Suffers, and recently Daniel Donato. All of which we were honored to be able to be the supporting act.
AF: The Atlanta music scene has grown exponentially over the last few years. What’s it been like to be part of the city’s music and arts scene?
NC: That is 100% true. When I first moved back from the Nashville area, I had a hard time finding good indie music. Ever since, it’s been this exponential growth. We have so much love for the Atlanta music scene. Every once and while you strike gold with an experience here. Shout out to people that are changing or have changed the game like Rowdy Dowdy, 529 – specifically Kyle with Irrelevant Music – Creative Loafing, Tuna for Breakfast… I mean there’s just so many people. So many creative people in this city. It’s wonderful.
AF: What’s next for you guys?
NC: Next for us will be more singles, videos, and, ideally before the end of this year, we will release an EP and tour the crap out of it right out the gate.
AF: Last one! Best show you’ve ever seen in Atlanta, and best place for a late night hang?
NC: Best show I’ve ever seeeeeen? Sheeesh that’s a hard one. I will say that we just played with a touring band at Smith’s. They’re called Sexy Dex and The Fresh. I listened the their recordings and thought they were pretty impressive. But seeing them live was wildly entertaining. They are great musicians and their show was incredible. Locally, I’d say 529 has it nailed down right now better than anyone else. You could go there blindly on a Friday or Saturday, not knowing the bill or anything, and you’ll likely have a great night full of great music. Again, props to Irrelevant Music.
Keep up with The Hipps on Facebook, and stay tuned for fresh releases and 2019 tour dates.
Newcomers to the Detroit music scene, Tears of a Martian released their first single, “With You,” this week. The three-piece – Arianna Bardoni, Justin Reed, and Todd Watts – is hard to pin down genre-wise but brings a refreshing mix of indie-rock, soul and R&B to the table. Bardoni’s honey-smooth vocals seem like the result of a musician who grew up listening to both Aaliyah and Hole – clear, soulful, and tinged with grit.
“With You” is a straightforward almost-love song with an infectious melody that begs singing along. “Play by play we were like a parade/nothing better to do/with you with you with you with you/I was never with you,” Bardoni sings, describing the lull of half-romance that comes from two people who are settling for each other rather than being alone, and the weird fog that lingers in such a relationship’s aftermath. Listen to “With You” below and keep your ears peeled for more from this blossoming band.
LA-by-way-of Syracuse’s dreamy siren, Doe Paoro, and her new album, Soft Power, are the kind of dynamic sonic duo rarely found in the music industry today. Passionate and empowered, Soft Power combines the alluring mystique of The Shirelles, The Ronnettes, and other original girl groups of the ’60s, with the kind of blazing soul found in the children of the liberated and rebellious.
Audiofemme caught up with Paoro before she took to the road for her upcoming tour to talk music, healing, unrelenting honesty in the midst of pain, and the intimate video for her single, “Walk Through The Fire.”
AF: You transformed incredible frustration and pain into a gorgeous record, full of passion, soul, and rebellion. How did you work through the negativity and transform anguish into art?
DP: I think by just being really present with it and acknowledging it, and acknowledging that these things were coming up for me. Not trying to control the feelings but instead writing about it and sitting down with my guitar and really just allowing them to pass through.
AF: Why do you think music and art are so important when it comes to healing and growing through difficult times?
DP: Oh, gosh, that’s such a big question. I think they offer abstract ways for us to process things, and I think there’s something, both in making art but also in being a fan of music and art, of getting the sense that somebody else has walked the same path as you at some point and has made it through. I was reading something recently about how isolation is really the source of all anxiety, and sometimes [when] we hear, “Well, when I was a teenager, and I heard a song about something I was going through, and it was like, okay, somebody else has thought that way,” that sense of isolation is lessened a little bit. Music also just heals on a completely vibrational level. There’s a lot of healing that comes from art.
AF: Your music is evocative and recalls girl groups from the 60s, like The Shirelles. What does it mean to you to be compared to the women who first pioneered the music industry in a time where feminism was still considered a dirty word?
DP: I mean, I’m so honored and flattered to be compared to some of the artists who have inspired me over the years, and through this record, and always a bit overwhelmed by it. Women musicians are part of a lineage of artists who are working to both expand our craft and expand the sense of empowerment and placement that woman have in the art world.
AF: How do you carry the flame with your own career to help clear the path for those who come after you?
DP: It’s funny, I was looking at some old pictures today of bands I was in when I was like…16, and it was me and this group of guys. It’s such a normalized experience, playing with men, and for a long time, I just accepted it, but these songs, they’re inclusive of a lot of the experience of what it’s been like for me to be a woman in the music industry. I was playing them originally with a band of guys, and I was like, “This just doesn’t feel authentic.” I didn’t feel like they could relate, [despite] their best intentions… they didn’t understand exactly what these songs mean to me, and I just needed to feel a little bit safer in that way.
So I really changed my band up, for one. I play with a lot of women now in my band; that’s one thing. But also just talking about these issues and not falling victim to silence because of shame or guilt or blame, or all the other tactics that are used to keep women quiet about misogyny that they’ve encountered. I really do see that as part of my responsibility as a creative person to step up to and make it so that it’s not the norm, so that people in twenty years see mostly men headlining festivals, or that having an all-girl band is an anomaly. I want these things to be normalized because there are so many amazing musicians who are women, and are just as good.
You know, unless it’s like NSYNC, we don’t say it’s a boy band. But when it’s an all girl band, we’re like, “Oh, that’s an all-girl band! I’d love to be in an all-lady band!” It’s very cute, but that says something about how our culture thinks about gender and music.
AF: What would you consider the greatest inspiration for Soft Power?
DP: My music is super personal, and every record’s kind of a diary of the time period I’m writing it in, but I think there’s a lot in the title and a lot of things that I tackle in this record that I hadn’t really talked about in the past, just power dynamics. I have had a lot of trauma in the last few years, just working in the music industry and being a woman. This record was really about me examining and reclaiming some of that power that I’ve lost, and acknowledging it, and the title was my mission statement for myself on how I wanna be in the world. Just because I’ve been a victim of abuse of power doesn’t mean I’m going to carry on that way. For me, it’s like the pendulum is in this sort of toxic masculinity, in the way that countries are being led and business is being done, and we have the opportunity for the pendulum to swing the other way, which is a much less violent, kind power, one that’s a little more compassionate, you know?
AF: What was the most challenging part of writing Soft Power? What was your proudest moment?
DP: I think the song “Guilty” was the last one I wrote, and that was like — it’s interesting. You know, now we talk about #MeToo and the #TimesUp Movement, and I wrote that song in 2016, which was way before all of this happened. At that time, people weren’t talking about it the way they are now. So that was really challenging. I was contemplating not writing about it, but a friend of mine was talking about it and was like, “I really think you need to write about this experience,” and I was like, “I don’t even know how you’d put that into song.” So kind of challenging myself to be honest, and to write about topics that I haven’t written about before, and feeling that responsibility to expand out of my own comfort zone.
I would maybe say the most special moment was in writing “The Vine,” just because lyrically, it’s probably the one I’m most proud of. The craziest thing is that I wrote it in like ten minutes, so it just felt like something that was supposed to exist in the universe. There are some songs that I’d been writing for, you know, four years, so it’s just kinda a mystical moment for me. I think it’s such a wild experience when you just surprise yourself.
AF: There’s an overall feeling of rebellion throughout Soft Power; did you set out to write a record to the theme, or did it just occur naturally?
DP: Yeah, I definitely didn’t write it with that pretense, but it just came out. I think that’s true.
AF: What’s your creative process like?
DP: I do a lot of journaling, I do a lot of writing, and looking to other people. What usually happens is that a few words in a conversation will just spark a song. I’ll get really inspired by a phrase and craft the whole story around that, and come with my lyrics. Then I’ll bring it to somebody else, and we’ll kind of work out the music together, because I love coming up with melodies, but I’m not the best instrumentalist.
AF: How have you grown and changed as an artist and performer since your previous release, After?
DP: You know, before my last record, I hadn’t toured extensively. I did tour a lot on my last record, so that experience really changed the way I perform, in terms of having confidence or feeling like I know what I’m doing, because…I don’t know, I didn’t go to school to be a musician. I’m completely self-trained and, technically, I’m missing a lot of information, so it’s all been really trial and error, and almost imposter syndrome in the first years of being an artist, when you don’t have that training. And maybe if you do, too, I can’t speak to that. But for me it’s about really owning that this is my path and feeling confident in that.
AF: How did the move from Syracuse to LA impact you as an artist?
DP: LA could not be more different than Syracuse; it’s really like working class, there’s not a very big art scene — at least there wasn’t when I was growing up — so it’s really inspiring. I came with a lot of naivety, because I didn’t grow up with anybody who was in arts and the business, and I didn’t know how that world navigated, so it’s been a lot of learning over the years. I’ve really had to step up to embracing a path that I hadn’t seen modeled for me as a child.
AF: How has your platform given you the freedom to express yourself through music? How do you use your music to give your fans the freedom to do the same?
DP: Well, I just try to be really honest. I try to be honest with myself, and I feel like that’s the responsibility of any artist to continue to do that. I feel like there are a lot of artists who gave me that freedom, and made me feel like it was okay, you know? Like Fiona Apple or certain artists that sang about things that I thought were almost unspeakable in some ways, in the place that I grew up in, so I just hope that that carries through and that people hear that and feel that they have space to do that as well.
AF: You mention walking a path that no one modeled for you. That takes a lot of inner courage, but it’s so easy to forget the power that we have within us. How do you remind yourself of that power in the moments that you feel weak?
DP: I just think “This too shall pass.” I think about different expressions like, “It’s darkest before the dawn,” and I think about what I’ve been through. I try to reflect on all that I’ve come through and, you know, the “More will be revealed.” You’ve just gotta keep going and do the next right thing for yourself, because you can’t identify with defeat. It’s such a passing thing, and the second you start over-identifying with that, it’s easy to lose the plot.
AF: Soft Power was recorded to tape with a live band, which forces you into a situation of spontaneity. What was that like?
DP: With my last record, After, we worked on it for like a year, and it was just so heavy. There was so much thought and it was beautiful, but I just wanted something different, because I always want to keep trying new stuff. I was like, I want something that’s the opposite of that, because what I hear happening in music over the last few years, trend-wise, is people doing a lot of things on the computer where there’s just no end to the amount of editing you can do. Sometimes I think that my best ideas are my first ones, and once I start overthinking them, I just lose it. So I was excited about the process of making a record that was essentially capturing people’s first instincts about what to play, and that’s how we did it. I would basically play the band the song, and they would listen to it maybe four times, and then we just captured what they felt was the right thing for them to play, because it was on tape. It was limited on how much time we could spend on that.
AF: Do you think you’ve translated that inability to overthink or doubt yourself to your daily life since then?
DP:I’m trying to, I really am. I think that becoming an artist and being in it long enough is all about learning how to really, deeply trust your instincts. I’m sure other artists would say the same. But it’s like the second you start giving away your power, whether it’s to a manager or a record label, you really can lose yourself, and you’ve just got to trust what’s coming into your heart.
AF: Your video for “Walk Through The Fire” is so intimate, and full of energy; how did you capture that feeling?
DP: I think it’s just a truthful little capturing of the energy between all of us. We really love playing together and respect each other so much, both as musicians and as friends, and every time we play together, we have that dynamic.
AF: What inspired “Walk Through The Fire”? What do you hope your fans take away from it?
DP: I think “Walk Through The Fire” is inspired by the idea that the hardest moments in our lives are the ones where we have to walk alone. I feel like there are moments in all of our lives where we cannot turn to other people for the answers or look to someone else to get us out of the mess we’ve made. Nobody else can walk us through the process of transformation; maybe that’s a better way to say it. My life has been a lot of transformation, so I keep learning that. I don’t know, fire — it’s like humans have been gathering around fire and watching it since we were cavemen. It never gets old, that experience of sitting around a campfire and just watching it spark up. I think we’re very hypnotized by its ability to burn and start over, and it’s certainly relevant to what we’re going through.
11.27 – Portland, OR @ Lola’s Room
11.28 – Seattle, WA @ Columbia City Theatre
11.30 – Los Angeles, CA @ Lodge Room
12.1 – Phoenix, AZ @ Valley Bar
12.3 – Austin. TX @ North Door
12.4 – Dallas, TX @ Dada
12.6 – Nashville, TN @ The Basement
12.7 – Atlanta, GA @ The Earl
12.8 – Durham, NC @ Pinhook
12.9 – Vienna, VA @ Jammin’ Java
12.11 – Brooklyn, NY @ Rough Trade NYC
12.12 – Boston, MA @ Cafe 939
12.13 – Philadelphia, PA @ Voltage Lounge
12.14 – Findlay, OH @ Marathon Center for the Performing Arts
12.15 – Evanston, IL @ SPACE
12.16 – Detroit, MI @ El Club
12.18 – Kansas City, MO @ Riot Room
12.20 – Denver, CO @ Larimer Lounge
This week, Detroit-based crooner Jacob Sigman released an upbeat and earnest follow-up up to his debut EP, Episode 1. Sigman wrote and produced the entirety of Episode 2, which fuses soul, pop, and funk to create his trademark heart-on-your-sleeve sound.
As a songwriter, Sigman has an undeniable knack for composing addictive hooks and sticking them with lyrics that roll off the tongue. The most glaring proof of this lies in “Honey Woo Hoo,” the EP’s dangerously catchy lead track. Sigman’s high register, lovestruck lyrics, and easy melodies call to mind the unscathed pep of early Beatles records – if they’d had access to a Justin Timberlake record in their formative years.
Sigman throws a surprise in the mix with “Let Me Lay You Down,” which starts off sounding like a ballad and transitions to a 70’s dance track. The break in this song feels like it could be straight off an ABBA record and is a charmingly unexpected pair with Sigman’s classic-sounding vocals. He continues to bring the funk in “Reminiscing,” a song with some serious Stevie Wonder vibes that somehow makes poring over photos of your ex sound fun.
In fact, one of the most attractive parts of Sigman’s music is the way it oozes positivity. Each song feels like a ray of sunshine reaching out through the speakers to brighten your damn day. It’s genuine and adorable and just quality, good-old-fashioned pop music. Listen below and be happy.
If you combine the soul and melodic sensibility of artists like Mariah Carey and Lauryn Hill with the laid-back production and honesty of indie songwriters like Fiona Apple and Bedouine, and you’ll arrive at the gorgeous hybrid that is Knotts, the solo project of Cincinnati-based singer-songwriter, Adalia Powell-Boehne. We’re excited to debut “Your Mind,” the third single of Knott’s upcoming debut LP, Is It Art Yet?
Highlighting Powell-Boehne’s powerful voice, “Your Mind” is a meditation on things left unsaid and a call for transparency. “I write when I really need to get something out,” says Powell-Boehne. “I feel like we all have times when we wish we would’ve said something or we didn’t say the right thing. So, I was like, ‘Can I just say what I want to say and you just say what you want to say?’”
Throughout the song, Powell-Boehne repeats the phrase, “Say what’s on your mind/I’m so tired of pretending.” Her steady voice is neither a beg nor a command, but the clear and honest request of someone who’s done playing games. The simple keys and percussion act as a steady guiding force to Powell-Boehne’s razor sharp vocals. She relinquishes her strength for only a moment when she sings, “I don’t know how to win, I don’t know how to lose/I wish you’d stop asking me to choose,” in a hair-raising falsetto, showing her vulnerability and opening doors for compromise.
Listen to the single below and look out for Is It Art Yet? on May 26th.
Former frontwoman of Chicago math rock outfit Tara Terra Emily Blue has added to her arsenal of patriarchy-dismantling sugar pop with her latest single, “Cellophane.” Following the suit of her 2016 solo record, Another Angry Woman, “Cellophane” urges listeners to challenge the way they think about societal norms. Disguised as an irresistibly catchy banger, the song is both a critique of possessive relationship dynamics as well as a reflection on Blue’s habit of preferring fantasy over reality when it comes to love.
“This song is about my tendency to get really excited for the idea of a relationship, then, once I’m in it, realize it’s not the fantasy I built about this person,” says Blue. Blue’s sentiment is relatable to pretty much anyone who has been in a relationship long enough to find out their partner’s flaws, whether it’s leaving a dish in the sink for two weeks or actually enjoying The Big Bang Theory. Once the proverbial new shine has worn away, you can’t help but look back on the golden days when you thought that person was perfect. In Blue’s case, that was before her partner started treating her like a possession – a little more severe than poor taste in television.
“Don’t you wish everything was still like it was back then / When I could call you anything I wanted to, my lover and my friend / And you would not possess me / when you would undress me,” Blue sings in the opening lines of “Cellophane.” Blue explains that the line refers mainly to male/female relationships. “Especially in heterosexual relationships, there’s this sense of ownership over your female partner, and this song is critical of that.”
However, the song’s disquieting subject matter doesn’t stop it from being incredibly danceable. Blue and co-producer Max Perenchio pulled inspiration from the King of Pop himself for the song’s infectious drumbeat and topped it with layers of bubbly synths and Blue’s salient vocals. Following in the steps of female pop transgressors like St. Vincent and F.K.A. Twigs, Blue proves that smart, thought-provoking music and party anthems don’t have to be mutually exclusive.
Although Blue’s upcoming EP is comprised entirely of songs about love and sex, Blue says “some of them are really quirky and almost parodies of types of love songs you would hear. Others are a bit more close to home.” With “Cellophane” as a strong introduction, Blue’s upcoming release is sure to be an arresting addition to the current school of female power pop.
“People think pop is lazy as a genre but it’s a science to me,” says Blue. “I really love flipping the script, because that’s when you come up with something really new and fresh.”
Metro Detroit indie-pop/R&B group The True Blue has a knack for creating sultry songs that hit close to home. The band – comprised of Christian Koo (vocals, keyboards), Ben Wilkins (guitar), Koda Hult (bass), and Jake Burkey (drums) – has been playing together for around six years, but spent the past two yearshoning the genre-blending, dreamy sound that defines The True Blue.
Their latest single, “What Do You Think of Me?” unfolds like a poetic stream of consciousness, seamlessly combining Koo’s spoken-word delivery and silky vocals. Wilkins’ minimalist guitar riffs act as an anchor throughout the song, whether acting as Koo’s sole accompaniment or buried beneath a layer of distant synths, whirring bass, and boomy percussion. The shape of the song mirrors the agonizing process of ruminating on an ex – overthinking, frustration, and letting go.
Koo, who is known for his honest lyricism, says writing this song allowed him to work through some post-breakup anxiety of his own. “In my heart of hearts I know we’re cool, but [/fusion_builder_column][fusion_builder_column type=”1_1″ background_position=”left top” background_color=”” border_size=”” border_color=”” border_style=”solid” spacing=”yes” background_image=”” background_repeat=”no-repeat” padding=”” margin_top=”0px” margin_bottom=”0px” class=”” id=”” animation_type=”” animation_speed=”0.3″ animation_direction=”left” hide_on_mobile=”no” center_content=”no” min_height=”none”][the song is] just me putting every insecurity I had about the situation out there and sort of baring it all,” says Koo. “Once you make that fear or worry into something that’s tangible, then you’re able to put it down.”
The fears Koo voices in “What Do You Think of Me?” are all too relatable: “What do you think of me, like if I post online? / ‘Cause if I post a photo it’s right there on your timeline / What’s the initial thought? / Is it good or bad? / Or am I just overthinking everything I thought we had?” For those emotionally mature enough not to block their exes (props to Koo), the immediate self-awareness in an era when so much of our lives is thrown out to the public can be crippling. You can literally see an ant-sized photo of any person who views your “story” and, chances are, if you’re heartbroken, you’re only looking for one.
Koo’s vulnerable and open lyricism is part of what makes The True Blue’s music so magnetic. “The True Blue has always been about staying true to your gut,” says the frontman. “When people tell me that our music has helped them through a rough time, it’s just something that’s really special in a really primal way – it’s like, ‘my soul connects with this.’”
Although Koo says the band is constantly evolving and changing their sound, we can be sure of one constant – relatable depictions of love, loss, and just being human.
Detroit locals can see The True Blue perform at The Pike Room on April 5th.
Combine brutal self-awareness, melancholic love affairs, and a natural pop sensibility and you will arrive at Quit the Curse, Anna Burch’s debut album. The Detroit singer-songwriter has spent years paying her dues playing in bands like Frontier Ruckus and Failed Flowers, but seems most at home as a solo act, singing a collection of lost-love songs tinged with irony and infectious hooks.
On Quit the Curse, Burch intermingles quirky candidness with familiar clichés, offering a refreshing take on age-old breakup anthems. Despite their dim subject matter, the songs possess a weightlessness brought on by Burch’s bright chord progressions and the occasional pedal steel swell. This contrast makes the album feel like laying in the sand with a piña colada but also browsing through pictures of your ex and their new partner.
The record reaches its height of beachy-ness on “Belle Isle,” a gorgeous play on cookie-cutter 1960’s surf-pop (complete with time changes and irreverent one-liners) that name-drops Detroit’s much-beloved island park gem. Burch sings “I wish that you would hold me in your arms/Like the night we made out on Belle Isle,” in a sweetly deadpan voice atop sunny pedal steel; equally endearing and amusing, it feels like an inside joke that we’re all in on – one called modern romance.
But the album is not solely a list of sugar-coated grievances. In “What I Want,” Burch hones in on the importance of moving forward and gives herself and anyone else who’s listening some words to live by. “I won’t play the victim just because I can’t get what I want,” sings Burch, followed by “Self-destruction is so played out/So is self-pity and self-doubt,” offering some genuine self-reflection and taking a jab at the melodrama of heartbreak.
Burch’s matter-of-fact line delivery and decade blending instrumentation heed a laid-back listen that reflects the indecision, apathy, and confusion involved in most post-millennium love stories.
The last time we heard from indie pop duo Valley Hush, they had just released a melty, celestial self-titled debut LP that explored ambition, passion and the art of getting out of your own way. This time around, singer Lianna Vanicelli and producer Alex Kaye explore longing and loss with a soaring swan song: their latest track, “Goodbye, Sweet Mango.”
Staying true to their signature exotic existential ecstasy, Valley Hush lands somewhere in the lush canopy of jungle trees here. A dancey “Leaving on a Jet Plane” for a new generation of movers, shakers and dreamers, “Goodbye, Sweet Mango” is sugary and satisfying but mindful of the insatiable void left when a family is divided by state lines or a boyfriend (who will most definitely miss your birthday) is on tour with his band or even a life left behind in hopes of discovering something new. There is something animated about the track that moves more like a illustrated monologue against clouds swirling around a wing of a plane floating between atmospheres. The layering of breathy vocals, sizzling synths, and stark guitar breaks is nothing short of confident and proof that Valley Hush might be saying goodbye to more than just friends and fruit. They may be entering into juicy new sonic territory, too.
Take a bite and bid farewell with the latest track from Valley Hush:
Detroit based hip-hop goddess DeJ Loaf returns with soft edges and a warm-hearted willingness to compromise with the whimsical visual for “No Fear” her first single from her major label debut, Liberated, due out later this year. Our beautifully braided, Gucci-clad heroine finds sunshine in exploration and confession with “No Fear.”
Tinged with Gosh Pith electro-pop feels and hand-claps, we find Lady Loaf wistful and motivated to make the impossible possible with an undeniably upbeat determination. Exploring the tribulations of a relationship with someone who is always on the road, “No Fear” is a much needed burst of positivity. Loaf sings “I’m gonna love you with no fears/We can do this thing together/Close your eyes and take my hand/What we have is something special, baby, let’s just take our chance.” Though the mobile bed gives us Vanessa Carlton’s “A Thousand Miles” vibes and, well, the message is not entirely dissimilar either, DeJ Loaf finds her own sweetly unabashed love language. The video mixes fantastical animation and fantastical means of travel, suggesting summertime wanderlust and encouraging listeners to overcome their love-lorn obstacles.
The first taste from JR JR forthcoming fourth record, “Same Dark Places” follows suit with what the duo does best: hook-dependent melodic pop menageries that feel more clever than sincere. If the duo’s 2015 hit “Gone” was a movie trailer for some generic teenage girl coming of age tale, then that would make “Same Dark Places” an ad for anti-depressant medication, the kind where the black and white shifts to color during the narration of common side-effects ending with cartoon bluebirds landing on the shoulder of some hesitantly happy real-life woman in a cardigan.
There are many masterful elements at play here, however, all of which make it nearly impossible to hate this song (which is what I really want to do.) First, there’s singer Josh Epstein’s thoughtful lyrical cadence. The words swell and bounce in such a way that his inflection alone could be listed in the credits as an instrument. And then, of course, there’s their reoccurring penchant for crafty arrangement and production. The fusion of Andrew Bird vibes (the layering of manic horns and sorrowful strings) meets The Lion King for Sega Genesis (this I can’t explain) meets that “LIVE. LAUGH. LOVE” wall hanging in your parents guest bedroom (okay, I’ll stop) would fool you into believing that JR JR woke up one day with this exact song, as you hear it now, in their heads. The drums feel like an afterthought and the lack of an end-point or clear resolve sink this track into “can’t-get-it-out-of-my-head-but-I-won’t-remember-it-five-years-from-now” territory. Although it was likely intended to be an anthem for swimming against the current, “Same Dark Places” merely treads water.
Let the light in and listen to “Same Dark Places” below:
Whistle the oriental riff intro to “Young Folks” in a public place, and it certainly will not go unrecognized. Swedish trio Peter Bjorn and John are a household name in the indie community, with their first taste of mainstream success coming from unforeseen traction in pop culture. I myself discovered the song during the first episode of Gossip Girl almost exactly nine years ago to date, but you might have been familiar from the old AT&T commercial, or from Kanye’s sampling on his Can’t Tell Me Nothing mixtape. But regardless of where and how you first heard it, the fact is, you know it, and it was an instant earworm.
Through the years, with three more well-received records, nothing ever hit quite as hard as Writer’s Block, thanks to that hipster whistle song, but that isn’t to say that “Young Folks” was the band’s only achievement, nor does it define Peter Bjorn and John’s sound and artistic vision. They’ve taken creative liberties in experimenting with darker tones on 2009’s Living Thing, and found themselves featured commercially again with “Second Chance”. The sustenance of their career shows that giving people a unique form of pop, one with emotional depth and true character in every track, is what they do best.
And now, five years after Gimme Some, the fans have something to talk about. Released on June 10th, the new record Breakin’ Point covers new ground and serves as a refreshing new taste for a band that seemingly disappeared. For the first time out of their seven records, the band worked with outside producers to churn out a true pop album. It took five years – they took their time with their goals – even with outside collaboration, the resulting animated sound is still unapologetically theirs.
Tracks throughout the album are adorned with the ever-familiar whistling, hearty piano, and upbeat synthesizers that aren’t entirely foreign to the band we knew from five-plus years ago, but now with a late-’70s pop flavor a la ABBA. (“We called ourselves ‘Dancing Kings’ for a couple of weeks,” said drummer John Eriksson.) Some tracks like the lead single “What You Talking About?” and “Domino” are heavier and more demanding, and “Do-Si-Do” quite easily instigates a crowd to move along. “In This Town” breathes out an ambience to slow the energy of the record without telling anybody to stop dancing.
Three revered names in indie pop made their presences known before a simple light display akin to a cross between an electrocardiogram and a music staff. You have the sharply dressed bassist Björn Yttling donning a blazer, while drummer John Eriksson took his seat behind the kit, standing out in a simple white baseball cap. Finally, lead singer and guitarist Peter Morén positions himself at the other end of the stage in what resembles a utility suit. All three are unified in their look with an array of the band’s patches on their navy blue outfits, as well as name tags – you know, in case you forgot who you were there to see.
Morén quipped that back in 2000, they signed a contract stating that if anyone left the band, they had to replace him with somebody of the same name. Fast forward sixteen years and seven records later, and Peter Bjorn and John are back with an even more danceable new sound that challenges the classic definition of pop music and conveys no less energy in the live show.
Peter jumped over the barrier of the pit early on to walk around the crowd during “It Don’t Move Me,” for a rock ‘n’ roll display – “I’m not a big fan of rock,” he says. “Rock ‘n’ roll, on the other hand, it’s kinda sexy.” – which set the tone for the etiquette of the evening: dance with complete disregard for the space around you, and don’t stop moving.
While this tour spotlights the most infectious pop tracks off the new record, Breakin’ Point, a taste of each of their previous records worked seamlessly into the mix: a performance of “Eyes” that highlighted Bjorn’s talent on bass, Peter guiding the crowd through a singalong of “Dig A Little Deeper,” and John’s command over the slowed down breakbeat of “Amsterdam,” which brought back memories for both me and the girl behind me, who said that “every song from 2007 just flashed in [/fusion_builder_column][fusion_builder_column type=”1_1″ background_position=”left top” background_color=”” border_size=”” border_color=”” border_style=”solid” spacing=”yes” background_image=”” background_repeat=”no-repeat” padding=”” margin_top=”0px” margin_bottom=”0px” class=”” id=”” animation_type=”” animation_speed=”0.3″ animation_direction=”left” hide_on_mobile=”no” center_content=”no” min_height=”none”][her] mind.”
Along with bringing outside producers into the mix for Breakin’ Point, two new touring members have accompanied the band this time around, allowing them to achieve a live sound closer to what you hear on their records. Peter took the time out to introduce the two “dear friends and talented musicians,” Freja on backing vocals and percussion, and Klaus on the computer and keyboard. In addition, Julian Harmon of POP ETC took over on the bongos while Freja took center stage as the female counterpart in “Young Folks,” the hipster whistle song that just turned ten this year.
But Peter Bjorn and John continue to prove over and over again that they are beyond capable of getting more than just that song and “Second Chances” stuck in your head for days on end. Closing out the show with “I Know You Don’t Love Me,” which is no slower but a bit more mellow, the trio still makes use of the whole stage and every ounce of vitality left in them during the song’s extended instrumental bridge.
The upbeat intensity of the live performance showcases the harmony that makes Peter Bjorn and John work so well together. As Peter said, “You meet someone, you do some things, 10 years later you have a family.”
LA-based soul-pop artist, Alexis Keegan is releasing a new track today, following up her breakthrough single, “Worry No More” which came out last year, placing her on the Billboard and Mediabase radars as well as propelling her into the commercial radio realm as the number one most added independent artist at indie radio. “Everything”, out today, boasts Keegan’s soothing vocals and songwriting prowess, striking a balance between bubblegum goodness and soulful, anthemic indiepop . Of the meaning behind the track, she gets back to the basics of falling in love – an experience simultaneously tried and true and novel all the same. ” ‘Everything’ was written about that “oh crap” moment when you realize you have feelings for one of your friends. My few serious relationships have all started out as just a friendship and very slowly progressed into more… Literally waking up one day and being like ‘…Oh man…’ ”
I think we can all relate to that moment.
Take a first listen to “Everything” right here, and try your damnedest to not go catching feelings for a friend ;-)
Dreamy, nostalgia-heavy four piece, Double Winter returns with the sugary and elusively heartbreaking track “XO, Skeleton” off their upcoming EP Watching Eye. The track sounds pleasantly unfinished, the production slightly tinny, the vocals wistful and monotone. “XO, Skeleton” doesn’t overthink and in doing so delivers a sweetly melancholic, hair-twirling, window-watching serenade. The hook “see you when you come back home” is, in context, is universally applicable. The ambiguity of the subject’s lovers distance and the duration of their stay could be as simple as hours, days or months and it could just as easily be in reference to the hypothetical never/someday. It isn’t until a little more than halfway through when the track strays from its straight line and swerves into a thrashing outburst that illustrates the inner chaos of having to wait for someone. The shift from patience to urgency is what makes “XO, Skeleton” a surprising pre-summer petit four.
[fusion_builder_container hundred_percent=”yes” overflow=”visible”][fusion_builder_row][fusion_builder_column type=”1_1″ background_position=”left top” background_color=”” border_size=”” border_color=”” border_style=”solid” spacing=”yes” background_image=”” background_repeat=”no-repeat” padding=”” margin_top=”0px” margin_bottom=”0px” class=”” id=”” animation_type=”” animation_speed=”0.3″ animation_direction=”left” hide_on_mobile=”no” center_content=”no” min_height=”none”]Tim John of The Griswolds
When Australian indie-pop quartet The Griswolds took the stage to Shania Twain’s “Man, I Feel Like A Woman,” I knew we’d be in for a fun night.
Opening with high-energy tracks like “Down and Out” and “If You Wanna Stay,” they set the stage for a high-energy performance.
“You better fucking sing along!” shouts lead singer Chris Whitehall, with flaming red hair and a slub knit sweater hanging freely off his shoulder. The dazzled crowd has no choice but to oblige.
Alongside their better known songs like “Right On Track” and “Beware the Dog,” the band played a couple of new ones from the sophomore album currently in progress. The first new song, “Get Into My Heart,” produced imperative screaming with lines like, “Get into my arms and into my home/Get out of your clothes and into my bed.”
Before premiering their second new track, “Role Models,” he first taught the audience how to sing along to the hook. “We’ve got nothing to lose,” sang Whitehall. “Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah,” we followed. Both tracks have a new dimension to them; the latter especially stood out compared to their more familiar songs, with a funk-inspired flavor.
And as a fun treat, we all got to sing “Happy Birthday” to drummer Lucky West before they closed with the classic “Heart of a Lion,” from their first EP.
Brooklyn’s Warsaw has a nice cinematic quality to it, and The Griswolds easily filled the air with bright energy. On this Hotline Spring tour, the boys have undoubtedly gotten listeners pumped for a new record to come.
The flower princess of pop nihilism, Lana Del Rey, returned this week with another installment of her haunting visual diaries with the video for “Freak” from 2015’s Honeymoon, featuring none other than the sensual prince of sardonicism Father John Misty. Lana leads us on a disturbingly enchanting 11-minute trip through her dizzying rose tinted world where the word “baby” is seductive currency.
Allegedly inspired by Josh Tillman’s (Father John Misty) own acid trip at a Taylor Swift concert, “Freak” reads as a modern day Charles Manson/Jim Jones-esque hallucinational tale complete with Kool-Aid and airy angel followers donning sandy blonde hair and wispy white clothes. The video opens with Tillman manically waving a large walking stick into the air at a California sky as Lady Lana leads him to a sandy overlook. It would be safe to assume that Tillman is the cult leader, with his Manson beard, but it is revealed to us that it is actually Lana who calls the shots as she places a square of acid on his tongue. It is from this point that we find ourselves with Lana, alone, in what is presumably her cabin lair paired with juxtaposing flashes of her and Tillman tripping through the hills. Eventually, we are shown the ethereal gaggle of disciples draped over a tranced out Tillman. Lana, all the while, is sloppily drinking her own ritualistic Kool-Aid concoction of beguilement.
“Freak” trails off into silence as Tillman dips Lana in a twisted waltz engulfed by white light and smoke fading into heavenly ether. Enter Debussy’s 1905 “Clair de Lune” as the cast is entangled with each other underwater in a baptismal dance that challenges death and rebirth, with a paramount acuteness to the push and pull relationship between the possessed and the possessor.
Could this video be artistic coding for Lana’s recently troubled encounters with fandom? Possibly. But more than likely “Freak” is a call to, well, freaks, and when our velveteen temptress coos: “Baby, if you wanna leave/come to California/be a freak like me, too,” I can’t help but think this video is simply meant as a captivating heretic anthem for the dazed and suffused.
The dimly-lit green room at Music Hall of Williamsburg smells of cigarettes, but in an unassuming way, perhaps because Chris Chu of POP ETC kindly apologizes to my plus one, Caroline, and I in advance. I hardly noticed what he meant once we got up there, and no one else seemed to mind either.
Before we sit down, Chu offers us a drink.
“Water? Beer? How old are you guys?”
I feel nervous that if I say yes, I’m imposing, though I notice the array of drinks in the mini fridge: Tecate beer cans, water bottles, and a Snapple that Chu brings out to sip occasionally, post-interview.
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Ysabella Monton for AudioFemme: Between The Morning Benders and becoming POP ETC, and even between the POP ETC album and Souvenir, I’ve noticed changes in the sound and your evolution as a group. You guys have had this awesome, loyal fan base, and you’ve done a great job of doing something new while maintaining that. What do you want your old fans to take from Souvenir?
Chris Chu: Well, love our fans and we do a lot to show them that. We respond to everything, we get people into shows all the time and give away all our guest list spots. We’re thinking about our fans a lot, but when we’re making music, the idea of trying to cater to any kind of specific listener or demographic is just dangerous. So, for Souvenir, we took our time, wrote tons of songs, and waited until a family of songs or a sound just emerged from that. And we’re happy with it. I just think, if you’re catering to your fans or trying to do something with your previous sound or anything like that, at least for us, it feels really stale. It’s hard for me to honestly sing songs like that or go on tour to play songs if we’re not excited about them. I think people notice that, so it would be a disservice to our fans to do the same thing over and over.
YM: No, I know what you mean. [laughs] Well, if you’re constantly having these new ideas, especially over the past three years — it doesn’t seem like it hasn’t been that long since the last record, but I think the change shows. What are you guys drawing inspiration from these days?
CC: It’s all over the place. For this last album, because we made the decision to take our time and approach it really patiently, we traveled a lot. For the last couple of years, I spent probably half my time in Tokyo, where I was working on other projects. So that was a huge difference, just working with people in Japan and being introduced to all this Japanese music. That was amazing, because there’s bands that are equivalent to The Beatles here that no one knows outside of Japan. Like, the number one albums in Rolling Stone Japan. I felt like a kid in a candy shop discovering that.
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Something about inspiration leads us onto a tangent, reminiscing about 80’s music. I use “reminiscing” lightly, since neither of us were actually spinning those records through the decade. As Chu explains, “It’s similar to some of the ways we became interested in Japanese culture with rediscovering that music from the 80’s. We’re too young to have grown up with it, but our parents listened to it and we knew about it.”
I tell Chu a story about being in the car a week ago with my mom, listening to the likes of Tears for Fears, Spandau Ballet, Culture Club. Just for fun, I threw in “Running in Circles” from Souvenir.
“A seamless transition,” Chu laughs.
My mom thought so too. I tell Chu her review of the song: “I’ve never heard it, but I bet it probably played in the disco.”
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Mid-interview, photo by Caroline Sugg for AudioFemme.
CC: That’s amazing. Similar to how I was describing the stuff in Japan, the cool thing about the 80’s is that it didn’t happen long enough ago that it’s been canonized in the same way. I grew up listening to The Beatles, The Beach Boys, Neil Young and all that stuff, Dylan. It’s so long ago that there are so many lists, so much critical discourse about music from the 60’s and you can still go and explore it yourself, but in general, it’s like history’s been written whereas with the 80s, there’s hit songs here and there but there’s a lot of records that people just haven’t given fair due because not enough time’s passed. Tears for Fears, for instance, I feel like people only know the four or five singles…
YM: Tracks like “Everybody Wants to Rule the World.”
CC: Yeah, and that’s one of my favorite songs, ever. Not knocking those songs, but I think that got us excited, like we could go back into the 80’s and write our own history and find things that spoke to us. It makes sense because we’re always listening to pop music. It’s like going into Cyndi Lauper records and Madonna records — again, people know the singles, but there are so many good album tracks.
YM: Definitely. Along with the 80’s influence I noticed some R&B as well in a few songs. I listened to “I Wanted To Change The World But The World Changed Me” and immediately the guitar at the beginning reminded me of “No Scrubs” by TLC.
CC: Yeah. [laughs] Actually, somebody else told me that, and we didn’t think about it, but it totally makes sense. It probably subconsciously made its way in.
YM: Was R&B something you were also listening to growing up?
CC: Yeah, I mean, growing up in the 90’s, you kind of couldn’t escape it. But with every song, especially from a production or sonic standpoint, we never wanna make anything that feels too dated. We’re happy to wear our influences on our sleeves, and it’s only better if people use our music as a gateway to all these 80’s bands that we love. We’re covering Tears for Fears in these shows and I’m sure especially younger kids don’t know that band, and we’d love for them to check it out. With “Running in Circles,” for instance, in the beginning it feels really 80’s, but then in the chorus, the way the guitars kind of sit in the mix, the sound of that feels almost more 90’s rock to me. Then in “I Wanted To Change The World But The World Changed Me,” we were using kind of deeper, subby, 808 kinds of sounds that have that hip hop and R&B influence for sure.
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As he describes that process of putting together different sounds from different eras, there’s a bit of a twinkle in his eye. It becomes clear very quickly that he’s rightfully proud of what POP ETC has accomplished in this regard.
“We love music,” Chu says, “so we’re just listening to stuff all the time and putting it all together.
I ask if that’s where the “et cetera” comes from, since the music they make transcends the meaning of the word “pop” on its own.
“Yeah, we were very intentional about choosing that name,” says Chu. “When we chose ‘The Morning Benders,’ we didn’t even think it would be a real band. But with ‘POP ETC,’ we like the idea of it. Not only does it kind of feel like a genre, so we can say we play “pop et cetera,” but we like it as something bigger than a band, like a kind of concept.”
Especially seeing as “pop” tends to have a negative connotation nowadays, the way that POP ETC have branded themselves is an effective, cohesive labor of love.
“We’re making shirts and stuff, we love it from a design perspective,” explains Chu. “Now, we’re putting things out through our own imprint called ‘POP ETC Records.’ I like how it fits into all these different arms. It all serves the music. And we do play ‘pop et cetera,’ that’s our genre.”
Photo by Bee Vivian.
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YM: Since you mix genres so effectively and all these different aspects go into it, when you have an idea for a song, how does that become a collaborative effort?
CC: Well, it actually changed substantially for this record. Especially with The Morning Benders, probably because I was younger and scared of letting go of total control, I wanted to wear all the hats and try to engineer it, mix it, produce it, and direct everyone exactly how to play things. With this record, and with my brother in the band, and Julian, who I’ve known for half my life, I really trust them. I’ll still write the core of a song by myself, and they give me very honest and merciless feedback. They’ll often be like, “We don’t like this,” and I’ll trash it, or, “The chorus is working, but the rhythm in the verse isn’t,” something like that. They help curate the songwriting even though they’re not writing lyrics or melodies that much. Then from a production standpoint, everyone plays. Julian is just a natural drummer, and as he’s playing drums, he starts guiding a song in a certain way from his style and his idea of what he likes. So yeah, I think this is the most collaborative record we’ve ever made.
YM: Does that have to do with it being recorded in the apartment?
CC: Yeah, that’s a huge factor. I get kinda stressed out being in a studio. I mean, you can find a great studio and make it warm and cool and if you can kind of bunker down for a month or something and you can feel comfortable there, but it’s just harder and harder to do that these days…I just always felt, especially with vocals and things that I wanna do in a really heartfelt, personal way, it’s kind of odd to do it in a studio where you don’t know the space or you don’t know anyone. There’s assistants standing around, staring at you or whatever. We just liked kind of being at home and having the freedom to really be patient. If I wanted to geek out over a certain way I sung a line or something for a couple hours, I could do that, whereas in a studio, you feel bad because you’re having an engineer do this thing over and over, and you just wanna get on with it.
YM: So did you not bring too many other outside people into it?
CC: No, no. We ended up having a couple of people mix it, so we sent it off for that phase just because we thought it would be nice to get some clarity. We ended up spending so much time on this record that we all felt like we were too close to have clarity on organizing sound. But we produced everything and played everything ourselves.
YM: So in the last three years, it wasn’t like a, “We spent most of this time writing, most of this time recording…”
CC: That’s the thing with being able to record at home now, it’s all much more ambiguous and those lines don’t really exist. When we did our first record, it was all the tape and we knew that we’d be going into the studio with not much time so we’d learn all the songs really well, went in and banged it out, and made a record. But with this it’s just everything is a moving part. You’re not committing something to tape where you can’t change it…The songwriting, and the recording and production are all intermingled. And some songs, we’d be fully recorded and go back and rewrite the chorus or a lyric or something. There’s substantial changes to every facet of a song.
YM: So how does that process reflect in the title of the album being Souvenir?
CC: We named it Souvenir for a lot of reasons, but in regards to that, because we took so much time and spent these years making this record, and it really felt stretched out across those years, it wasn’t like we did a couple of months and then vacationed for six, we were really tinkering with it. So I think it feels like a snapshot of what we were going through during those times. We liked the idea of having a souvenir that we could hold onto and keep with us going forward.
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At this point, Jon, Chu’s brother and bandmate, pops in, waiting for a lull in the conversation. I turn to ask if he wants to add anything.
“Oh no, sorry to interrupt,” he says, “We just didn’t submit a guest list.”
Soon, drummer Julian Harmon comes in too, reaching for the beers and taking a seat on the couch with a few other people. There’s an air of ease in the room, no tension despite there being an interview going on and show time in around fifteen minutes.
“I thought Christine would’ve done that, but I will send it to you,” says Chris
“I’ll send that to you now,” says Chris, and Jon thanks him and apologizes again. “Okay, I sent it to both of you guys.”
“Are you guys doing an interview?” Harmon asks.
“Yeah, and we’re recording,” says Chris, jokingly adding, “So get the beers, and go.”
They leave the room and I get nervous, as it seems like I’m intruding on their time to hang out before the show.
“I mean, the only other thing I was wondering was…” I begin.
“It’s fine! Take your time,” he reassures me. “Don’t worry about them, there’s always something going wrong.”
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YM: What kinds of things do you want new people who are discovering your music to draw from?
CC: That’s a good question. I don’t know.
YM: Not that you have to peg it for anything specific.
CC: I mean, obviously we put so much time into this record, I hope that people connect with it. In the same way that it’s a souvenir for us and we have it for these times, I like the idea of people having it — and for me, this is how music works in my life — as I’m living and listening to a record, my life experiences get kind of wrapped up in that, so ideally, that was what would happen. It could be a souvenir for other people.
YM: Yeah, definitely.
CC: To bring it full circle with what we were talking about early on, I really want fans to know how much we appreciate them caring about what we’re doing. I would like them to connect with us, especially with all the social media ways you connect with fans directly. I really think that it’s a blessing that we get to make music all the time for a living. We really do believe in that exchange and we’re feeding off the energy of our fans. Their support really does affect us and our music.
If you’ve seen the cover of this month’s TIME Magazine or have recently tuned into any national media outlet, you know that Detroit’s sister city, Flint, is in crisis. Due to corrupt government, dangerous mismanagement, and incompetence, thousands of Flint residences have been poisoned by lead through the water system.
Long story short, Flint was getting its water from Detroit until 2011 when Gov. Rick Snyder, due to economic disparity, decided that Flint would begin receiving water from the Flint river, despite the water’s highly corrosive makeup and the cities aging, weathered pipeline. The water itself is not poisoned with lead, but is so corrosive that it is stripping the lead pipes. Last fall, auto manufacturers refused the usage of Flint water as it was corroding the auto parts, yet it continued to pump into every household, poisoning an entire city. Despite the President issuing a state of emergency and the allocation of 80 million dollars in FEMA relief funds to assist Flint in its recovery, the damage is irreversible.
I know what you’re thinking. What does this have to do with music? Well, nothing, really. Other than the fact that I feel that I bear the shared responsibility of social consciousness as an artist and fellow human taking up space on this floating ball in space. I couldn’t help but search for some convoluted way to draw attention to this issue, while also finding personal solace through the only outlet that I knew. I’ve curated a playlist of “water songs” by Michigan artists with the hope of a healthy resolve for the millions of people around the world who do not have access to safe drinking water, which now include the thousands of children and families of Flint, Michigan. Let these tracks wash over you and extinguish any unwanted fires.
Eddie Logix and Blair French are BLKSHRK. Released last year, Jellyfish on Cassette is an ocean of temperamental pulsations. The project fuses programmed sampled, live takes and improvisation all of which swell. “Arm Floaties (Night Swim)” gives gives the aural allusion of treading deep water.
This alternate take of “Tidal” from 800beloved‘s dreamy sophomore record, Everything Purple, is a trembling and sedated beachside lullaby. Lynch’s breathy vocals paired with the distant and upbeat pop distortions forms the sensation of having a sun stained memory you wish you could return to.
A standout track off of their 2013 album Wormfood, “Water” is drowsy and pleasantly complacent, much like falling asleep in a filled-to-the-rim bathtub. It’s a smug track about the things we normally don’t have the guts to confess about the disinterest in meaningful love and sex. It’s the type of song that demands hydration; a sonic hangover.
Before they dropped the Nascar kitsch, JRJR released Patterns. “Dark Water” is reminiscent of The Shins with hints of Jon Brion, making it both sugary and brooding. The Beach Boys-esque harmonizing and piano crescendo mask the heaviness of the repeated imagery of drowning which makes this bubbly pop track ironic and bittersweet.
One of my favorite Detroit duos, Gosh Pith, channel a sleepy Animal Collective/Vampire Weekend vibe with a track off their 2015 EP, Window. “Waves” challenges the listener to let go, internalizing the symbolic properties of water via a gentle, lapping synth pop track.
The Gories: “Goin’ To The River”
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The Gories formed back in 1986 and were fearless in welding 60’s garage rock with hyper rhythm blues. “Goin’ To The River” from I Know You Fine, but How You Doin’ released in 1990, is defiant and demands rowdiness. This track by The Gories is a perfect example of their lasting and often overlooked influence.
What I consider to be the most under appreciated album in Iggy Pop’s catalogue and one of the most important contributions to post-punk, New Values is full of songs as jutting as this one. “Endless Sea” is particularly provocative. The synth breakdown along with seductive, temperate vocals are the perfect pairing for giving the drugged sensation of literal endlessness.
The Dead Weather: “Will There Be Enough Water”[/fusion_builder_column][fusion_builder_column type=”1_1″ background_position=”left top” background_color=”” border_size=”” border_color=”” border_style=”solid” spacing=”yes” background_image=”” background_repeat=”no-repeat” padding=”” margin_top=”0px” margin_bottom=”0px” class=”” id=”” animation_type=”” animation_speed=”0.3″ animation_direction=”left” hide_on_mobile=”no” center_content=”no” min_height=”none”]
The Dead Weather may be my favorite collaboration from the diverse repertoire of Detroit’s golden child, Jack White. White along with Alison Mosshart (of The Kills) make for a sexually hypnotic rock experience. “Will There Be Enough Water” is a smokey, blues infused anti-apology that is as thirsty as it is satiated.
The folkiest track on the playlist, “Waterfall” off of Fred Thomas’ Kuma is moody and textured like a messier, sleep deprived Elvis Perkins. The song begs “Come on everyone/it’s time to go see the waterfall” an uplifting chorus partnered with moaning string arrangements keeps “Waterfall” in the heartache category.
This track off of Don’t Wait by experimental pop duo Valley Hush could easily be a secret video game level trudging through sparkling, underwater sludge where Lana Del Rey meets St. Vincent. It’s more sensational than literal, but the ominous gurgling noise is animatedly visual.
If you would like to learn how you can help the residents of Flint, Michigan, click here.
