TRACK OF THE WEEK: NOTS “Violence”

Last year, Memphis punk quartet NOTS released their arresting sophomore LP Cosmetic, brimming with a palpable, immediate energy. Though they’re rockers at heart (and Cosmetic is relentless in its sonic barrage, no doubt) it was the band’s penchant for art-rock flourishes that set the record apart. Fuzzed out guitars, warbling distortion, spacey buzzing synths, and brazen vocal jabs needled listeners to attention, then held a ferocious gaze at every twist and turn.

It’s evident that NOTS plan to continue that experimental trajectory with their latest single, “Violence.” It’s the doomy, synth-driven b-side to their Cruel Friend 7″ which comes out June 30 via Goner Records. Though they’ve dabbled in Krautrock sensibilities before, they’ve seldom reached such kosmiche heights. Seemingly set in some dystopian future where guitars have become extinct, Alexandra Eastburn’s droning analog snyth warps the weft of Natalie Hoffmann’s urgent shouts, weaving together a wonky punk tapestry for the cruelest of summers.

 

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BAND OF THE MONTH: Prima

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Photo by Tanya Zhenya Posternak

Rose Blanshei’s powerful lyricism and storytelling is a clean-cutting weapon in rock project Prima. She has been kicking around concepts for the last couple of years in collaboration with drummer Butch Merigoni and guitarist Jessica Ackerley, and their raw and vulnerable work is finally available for the world to hear. Prima’s debut EP, Performance, was recorded in the summer of 2015 at The Black Strap in Borough Park, Brooklyn with Torey Cates and finally released June 1 of this year via Time Castle Records. This album is full of left turns and surprises as she harnesses a sinister guitar tone with noisy washes of delay and modulation. When they take to the stage, their presence is strong with a delivery that creates a lasting impact.

I delved into the mind of Rose about the birth of Performance, her cathartic songwriting process, and how playing live makes her feel like she’s got a secret that only she knows.

AudioFemme: What was it like writing with Jessica Ackerley and Butch Merigoni? What aspects did they bring to the record? How did they help you grow as a musician?

Rose Blanshei: I can safely say that every single person that I’ve had the honor of playing with has taught me something and helped me grow as a musician. Prima, as a concept, effectively began when I met Butch Merigoni. An immensely physical, kinetic player, joining forces with Butch is what showed me that I could rock. In the span of a few months, I went from plodding away in my bedroom to making mountains of sound with another human. Butch taught me about rhythm, but more so about energy and commitment. Watching Butch play, low to the floor, mouth agape, limbs flailing, no one would ever question his investment in the moment, and in the music.

The process in the first couple of years of Prima you could say was almost anti-intellectual. The writing was all about the feel. In this period, many of my lyrics began as improvisations. There are literally days worth of Voice Memo recordings of Butch and I hammering at our instruments in unison, me babbling away. Often times I would go back, listen to these recordings, find the one discernible lyric, and then write the rest of the song from there.

Jessica coming along introduced an element of musical theory that was totally foreign to me at the time. With her influence, I think I learned how not to simply pour and call it a song, but to think about layers and arrangements. By introducing a second guitar voice into the project, I began to see my driving root notes and chords as substantive blocks to build other parts from. Her command of her instrument and her chops were not only inspirational, but educational for me, and exploded my awareness of the choices that I could make, even just in terms of the chords I chose to play.

Performance is very much the product of the time the three of us spent playing and writing together.

AF: What is your current live lineup? Have you written new material together?

RB: The current lineup of Prima consists of Frank Rathbone (Sic Tic) on guitar, Jeff Widner (Russian Baths, TELAH) on drums, and Nico Hedley (Chimneys, Journalism) on bass. I have the most bizarre sensation when I look out at these guys during rehearsals and at shows— a combination of awe, disbelief, and gratitude: I’m literally surrounded by some of the most talented and intuitive musicians I’ve ever met in my life.

There are a handful of new songs which we’ve already incorporated into our live set, which I plan on recording this summer. I’m learning how to play drums and bass so that I can be more hands-on in the demoing and writing process.

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Courtesy of Rose Blanshei

AF: Is there a recurring theme in this record? Can you share some lyrics from a favorite of yours if you can choose one?

RB: The themes of Performance weren’t apparent to me until I looked back at it, in retrospect. There were incredible amounts of pain I was experiencing at the time of writing this record; pain that I was very much entangled with. When I was finally able to step back and look at the record as a whole, with some separation, I was able to identify many of the themes and the sources of a lot of that suffering. Listening to this record now is like flipping through an old photo album, or notebook.

In a sentence, Performance is dealing with a certain kind of violence — sometimes self-inflicted, sometimes coming from the environment — the kind that is asking, suggesting, or demanding that you ought to be something other than what you are.

I have broadcasted some of the lyrics that have the most meaning to me via my Instagram leading up to the release of the record.

AF: What inspires your guitar sound? Where did you learn about the element of noise and dissonance?

RB: Lightning. Dirt. Metals. Debt.

I learn about guitar like I learn about a lot of things: by accident. I find that I naturally tend towards sounds that feel a little “off”. In a photograph, I’m always drawn to the detail that feels out of place. I’m drawn to blemishes and flaws. Once contextualized, there’s no such thing as a mistake.

AF: How do you feel on stage?

RB: The honest truth is that it varies nightly. On a good night, my ego evaporates, taking with it self-consciousness, and I am able to be a pure conduit of sound and story. 

I have felt like many different things on stage: a Joan of Arc, a Barbie, a Renegade, a Soothsayer. I’ve felt like a liar and a cheat and I’ve felt more honest than I’ll ever feel. Sometimes I feel sexy, courageous, sometimes I feel like a coward. 

Lately, I’ve been feeling like I have a secret that only I know about. It makes me feel beautiful, and terribly strong.

AF: What’s your next move? 

I’m practicing a new rule, which is to not talk about things, especially new concepts until they are tactile and tangible. With that said, it won’t be long at all until you hear from—and see—Prima again. 

Prima plays a release party for Performance at Union Pool with Russian Baths and Kate Von Schleicher. Tickets are available here.

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ONLY NOISE: Come Dancing

My earliest memories of dance involve ballet – or at least my sloppy stab at it. More than actual dancing, I remember the shined and scuffed Marley flooring; that pleated, boiled-wool skirt flopping over Ms. Burgwin’s sad calves; and most of all, the utter confusion as to why the hell my fellow ballerinas and I weren’t wearing tutus and tiaras at all times. Was ballet not princess training after all? Was I in the wrong room?

Ballet class was a rigid environment that, even at five, I failed to see the point of. I thought I wanted to learn ballet…but what I actually wanted was something far less dignified: to simply prance around while wearing a fluffy pink outfit. Why an overbearing septuagenarian was constantly shouting at us about prancing around in fluffy pink outfits, I never understood. So when my older sister decided to leave the hobby behind, I followed in her pointy pink footsteps. It was only after abandoning ballet that my first memory of enjoying dancing surfaced, featuring my older siblings and I bouncing around in the kitchen to the entirety of Cake’s Fashion Nugget and Prince’s “Raspberry Beret.” I realized from an early age that kitchen dancing was a lot more fun than ballet, and required a sense of humor, to boot.

Perhaps my conflicted relationship with dancing was born of those two polarities: the super-structured, formal lessons vs. the more primal movin’ and shakin’. The former must be rehearsed and perfected, while the latter demands almost nothing of the body. Simply acquiesce to the music, and the rhythm will move your limbs for you.

Somewhere between the ages of 10 and 22 (with the exception of a brief foray into swing dancing) I became a kind of non-dancer. This could largely be blamed on my punk rock leanings, which forbade any attempt at social normality like, say, school dances. Not only had I embargoed myself from musical genres outside of punk music, I had slow-cured and hardened into a person that no one in his or her right mind would invite to a school dance; and no one did… until I moved to a new high school.

Woodinville High School’s Homecoming soiree of 2006 would be the first and last school dance for me. Some of the evening’s most memorable factors were countless Black Eyed Peas hits, dinner at Olive Garden, and my date Kevin’s parents, who chauffeured us around in their totally dope Kia Sedona. While at the dance itself, I almost incited a riot after approaching the DJ and requesting that he play “some swing music,” which prompted a six-minute electro-swing mash up only I boogied to. People were shouting angrily, looking around for the culprit (me) as if someone had let out an acrid fart and its creator had to be identified for purposes of justice.

I didn’t dance in public again for years. You could say I forgot how to dance. This amnesia was a result of a few things. 1) The aforementioned investment in punk music that only allowed for “slam dancing,” in which the word “dancing” is used very loosely. 2) Lack of venues. Where was I supposed to dance as an underage kid in a small town? 3) Music choice. Had I been a tween, teen or young adult in the ‘60s, I could have done the twist. I would have warmly welcomed the discotheques of the 1970s, or the techno clubs of the 1990s. But no, it was the mid 2000s. What was I supposed to think of dance music in a time of The Pussycat Dolls and Paris Hilton’s cover of “Do Ya Think I’m Sexy?”? I had to become a “Private Dancer,” but not in the way Tina Turner meant it.

I began to dance in secret. In high school, I’d do it before my parents got home from work. In college, I’d wait for all three of my roommates to vacate the apartment, before putting on “Face To Face” by Daft Punk, or “Suspended In Gaffa” by Kate Bush. Those two artists were particularly helpful in getting my body to move, especially Bush, whose sweeping, avant garde pop music lends itself to wild and unstructured flailing quite nicely. I would play entire albums by these artists and dance around my kitchen and living room in the midst of doing dishes, rolling on the dining room table, leaping past the confused cat, and only occasionally breaking something.

It was cathartic, this silly thrashing of limbs. But where could I find this perfect cocktail of adequate space and music I actually liked? Certainly not in da clubs of the Meatpacking District. Where does one go to, as Jamiroquai’s Jay Kay once sang, “just dance”? Not a place to be seen, not a place to meet dudes – a place to just dance.

In an attempt to quench this new thirst of mine, I started trying out a couple of different dance classes – mostly because dancing is the best way to trick myself into exercising. Unfortunately, I found that even amateur classes at the YMCA run on the same, overly disciplined air as my old ballet lessons, and on top of that, they are filled with dancers. Or, as I should say, !!!DANCERS!!!. You know, the chick wrapping her feet at the afternoon Zumba class. She wants you to know, she is no mere Zumba dabbler, but a !!!DANCER!!!. These classes always reveal themselves as a special circle of hell, in which I am not the graceful interpretive genius sashaying across the kitchen while holding a rose whisk betwixt my teeth, but a clumsy lump of flesh that doesn’t know left from right.

So I ask you: is there a secret Kate Bush dance night I don’t know about? Can someone please start one?

There is one place I have found that meets my criteria of good music + people I don’t hate + ample space, however: the wedding. About two years ago, one of my best friends got married, and was gracious enough to make sure her guests were plied with ample booze and good tunes. It was perhaps one of the first times this group of pals had seen me dance, despite the fact that I met them in 2009. Though dateless, I did everything I could to make up for the last decade or so of burying my need to boogie. Half of my friends were horrified and confused (or as I like to think, totally jealous of my moves), but one of them got it. She leaned in, looked me in the eye and said, “You are a dance machine.”

 

PLAYING DETROIT: Mango Lane Share Cheeky “Sex” Video

If Detroit had palm trees and if palm trees had a theme song we would have to assume that Mango Lane’s chilled out, shimmering L.A. afternoon make-out session “Sex” would be most fitting. Channeling Washed Out, with hints of Phoenix’s “Love Like a Sunset,” “Sex” feels more like a post-coital American Spirit afterglow on a balcony. Cleverly caffeinated guitars and breezy synths give depth to the duo’s layered, wistful vocals and oddly comforting lyrics.

According to their Facebook bio, Jack Engwall and Austin Carpenter met through skateboarding, which might be why “Sex” mimics the ebb and flow of wheels on the road just as much as it soundtracks a hand moving up a thigh. The video pairs well with the pleasantly passive, go-with-the-flow vibe – purples and blues shift into fuchsias and reds as if to mimic a mood ring on the finger of fresh intimacy.

But these two don’t seem to take seduction too seriously; what is most attractive is the video’s low-key cheeky feel. We find Mango Lane dancing with the same lanky inelegance that made Flight of the Conchords fans chuckle. Yet, somehow, “Sex” doesn’t sound or look like a parody – Mango Lane’s awkward confidence is a turn-on while their grooves incite an undeniable popping off.

Mango Lane releases their new record on June 16th. Let’s hope their video for “Sex” gets you through the dry-spell:

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NEWS ROUNDUP: Tragedy In Manchester, Biggie Mural Saved & More

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photo by Raymond Boyd

  • Ariana Grande Cancels Tour After Manchester Attack
    On Monday, Ariana Grande’s concert at Manchester Arena in England ended with explosions, later revealed to be the result of a terrorist attack that killed 22 people. What makes the crime particularly heinous, besides the fact that no one should ever feel in danger just because they want to see live music, is that a majority of the audience was young girls. Grande has since returned home to Florida and canceled her tour, though she’s pledged to return to Manchester to hold a benefit concert for the victims. Read more about the situation here.
  • Nandi Rose Plunkett Responds To Sexist Comments
    How tiring must it be to just be known as “The Girl In The Band?” Nandi Rose Plunkett, the musician behind Half Waif and member of Pinegrove, posted a statement about dealing with fans’ remarks that praise her appearance yet downplay her musical role. “These sentiments are the literal heart of what makes women afraid to shine, what discourages us from even trying,” she wrote. Read the whole thing here.

  • Bed Stuy Will Get To Keep Biggie Smalls Mural
    A three-story homage to the late, great Notorious B.I.G. recently came under threat of removal when the building’s landlord proposed adding windows to the facade featuring the “King of NY” mural. However, after a petition and local outcry, Samuel Berkowitz said he would keep the mural (though he initially proposed that the artists who painted it pay a $1,250 month fee to keep it). When artists Naoufal Alaoui and Scott Zimmerman explained the rapper’s importance to the borough, Berkowitz simply changed his mind. Isn’t it refreshing to read a story that doesn’t end with artists getting screwed over by landlords?
  • Other Highlights
    A modern take on “Feelin Groovy,” a new album by Amber Coffman, a “lost” Neil Young album is coming, Nicki Minaj also funded a village, Pitchfork announces Beats > Bullets project, Deerhoof announce new albums, are the Migos homophobic? & man, the Twin Peaks soundtrack is awesome.

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VIDEO REVIEW: Psymon Spine “Eric’s Basement & Secret Tunnels”

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photo by Jennifer Medina

The last video from eclectic Brooklyn band Psymon Spine was full of dancing bodies and dizzying effects, enough to warrant a seizure warning (check out “Yoana” here, if you dare). The star of Psymon Spine’s latest video, however, is not a person, but a blank canvas. As “Eric’s Basement & Secret Tunnels” develops, splashes of paint appear and disappear, gradually building a world of color.

The video was created by artist Erin Barry, who also did the cover art for Pysmon Spine’s upcoming debut album, You Are Coming To My Birthday. Her stop-motion visuals fit the music so perfectly that out of context it could, at times, be hard to tell which came first.

Though the band incorporates lots of electronic elements into their unique psych-pop sound, there’s something about “Eric’s Basement & Secret Tunnels” that seems very connected to nature. Synths are certainly present, but act as a burst of sunlight rather than a call to dance in the dark. A pulsing heartbeat runs through the track, connecting the various melodies and influences woven in. Barry’s chosen medium only adds to the natural theme; as the light catches wet paint, it looks like the shiny surface of a rock. Colors run and spill like a river, while you’ll swear you can hear the chatter of a creek somewhere in the background of the track. The beat opens up to a simple, singsong melody, and contrasted with splashes of watercolor it brings up powerful nostalgia, a reminder of an almost forgotten childhood. Whether you’re watching, listening, or both, you’ll feel something unexpected.

You Are Coming To My Birthday is out June 9th via Axis Mundi Records. Watch the video for “Eric’s Basement & Secret Tunnels” below.

 

ONLY NOISE: Personal Record

I no longer own my very first record. It was AFI’s Very Proud of Ya, (that’s pre-emo AFI for those of you wondering), and I bought it in Seattle with my own allowance. I can still hear it spinning on the portable turntable my dad leant me for late night bedroom listening. The portable record player was a goofy little invention. It was called a Discman, which is hilarious in retrospect considering its makers couldn’t have predicted the imminent reign of CDs and their portable players. The Discman was essentially useless – the LP’s edges protruded from its sides, there was no real way to carry it around, and of course the moment you played a record in transit, it would skip violently.

Therein lies the paradox of the “portable record player,” but it worked perfectly for my pre-bed indulgences. Every night for months I would load up the Discman with Very Proud of Ya (it was the only record I owned for a while), slip on a pair of padded headphones, and gingerly lie on the brown carpet, my head inches from the swirling black polyvinyl. I was tethered to the music physically, but if I closed my eyes, I was transported miles and decades from post-millennium rural Washington.

Listening to Very Proud of Ya now, I recognize it is not a very good album – and yet some odd memories strike me – the first of which being the above scene, in high definition. The smell of the carpet, the temperature of my middle school bedroom…the nightly ritual I haven’t thought about in so many years, despite how much joy it brought me. I remember specific parts in each song – riffs, drum rolls, and Davey Havok’s snarling delivery.

I notice that all of my favorite parts as a 12 year old are the same today. And though I don’t find it to be an exceptional record as I listen with 27-year-old ears, I do miss it. I wish I still had it. It is, for some reason, particularly upsetting that I no longer possess the first record I ever bought. Its absence feels like losing all of the love letters from your first boyfriend. You weren’t clinging to those! They were emotional artifacts!

Ok, I’m an emotional hoarder – so what?

I can’t remember exactly why I got rid of Very Proud of Ya, but I can take a pretty educated stab at what happened. I reckon that one of my very few friends enlightened me to the fact that in more recent years, Davey Havok and AFI had gone the goth/emo route – so I wanted to absolve myself of any association with the band whatsoever. I then sold the LP back to the very Seattle record shop from whence it came, and bought an original pressing of The Incredible Shrinking Dickies on store credit. Is The Incredible Shrinking Dickies a better record? Yes. Does it flood me with tingly memories of my 12-year-old self? Sadly, no.

Since abandoning my very first LP, I am a bit more careful about the records I let go of these days; though arguably, too careful. The level of sentimentality devoted to my record collection can be summed up by that brilliant line of dialogue in the 2000 film adaptation of Nick Hornby’s High Fidelity, when Rob (played by John Cusack) is rearranging his albums autobiographically. “If I want to find the song ‘Landslide’ by Fleetwood Mac, I have to remember that I bought it for someone in the fall of 1983 pile, but didn’t give it to them for personal reasons.”

While I have no patience for filing my records with any system of organization, their origin stories can be recalled with the same amount of detail as those in Rob’s collection. For instance, I couldn’t possibly get rid of the crap albums from any of my musician ex-boyfriends; it would do them a service to put their music out in the world. Better to let them sit inert on the shelf, instead. I realize that I don’t rationally need two copies of Keith Jarrett’s Concerts LP, but one I bought off of a nice street vendor in a strike of serendipity, and the other was a gift from that cute record shop boy I used to date. Plus, one is a boxed set!

The same emotional “reasoning” applies when it comes to my promo copy of Elvis Costello’s 1977 debut My Aim Is True. I wouldn’t dare swap it for a different pressing, as that would rewrite the terrible history of how I acquired the album in the first place.

It was May of 2005 – May 21st to be exact, the fifteenth birthday of my adolescent best friend, Daniel. Daniel was one of the few people in school who shared my obsession with music. We (very) briefly played in bands together, but spent most of our free time lying in his dark bedroom, listening to entire records in silence. On heavy rotation were albums like Modest Mouse’s Good News For People Who Love Bad News, Yeah Yeah Yeahs’ Fever To Tell, and anything siphoned from a Quentin Tarantino soundtrack. I showed him the raw pop power of Richard Hell and The Voidoids, and he singlehandedly introduced me to The Pixies with a burned copy of Doolittle.

Naturally, Daniel wanted to spend his birthday in Seattle. We were of the few cultured people in our high school, you see, and sought the finer things in life… like the Häagen-Dazs ice cream shop at 4301 University Way. But we also sought record stores – places that didn’t exist in our hometown. And so, Daniel, his dad, and I spent the day gallivanting around Seattle’s University District, digging through bins. It was within these bins that I found it: an original pressing of My Aim Is True – used, but in fine condition, and priced at a fair $4.99.

Within milliseconds of me raising the LP from its vinyl neighbors, Daniel’s hawkeye spotted it three sections away. “Can I get that?!” he asked, beaming. We had both commenced our Elvis Costello phase within the past year, so this discovery was like striking gold. Hmmmmmmmm. This would take some judicious thinking. On any other occasion, a staunch finders-keepers law would apply – but this was his birthday after all. I decided to be kind, to do what any loving, considerate friend would do…

Oh, no. No I did not. I laid down the finders-keepers law hard and mercilessly. “But, it’s my birthday!” he pleaded. With the stony resolve of a miserable 15 year old, I stood my ground, and kept the record for myself. I have never felt more selfish. This memory stings me, makes me cringe every time I hold that album in my hands. I’ve considered shipping it to him, but it would probably be too little, too late. Besides, the record has become a symbol; it’s a painful but necessary reminder to be less of an asshole. And that’s certainly something worth holding onto.

PLAYING DETROIT: TRIP METAL FEST 2017

 

Memorial Day weekend means one thing and one thing only for most of Detroit: techno. For the past 17 years (on and off due to regulatory restrictions, budgeting issues and exponential crowd growth) Detroit celebrates its role as the birthplace of true, nitty-gritty electronic music. From the likes of Carl Craig, Kevin Saunderson and Moodymann, a world was forged from heart-racing bass beats and dizzying spins of discordant manipulation.

Well, this post isn’t about Movement. This is about TRIP METAL FEST. Companion, rival, and a deeper, more brooding assemblage of sound, TRIP METAL FEST (a pay-what-you-want weekend of musical shock therapy) kicks off this weekend at Detroit’s El Club. We’ve handpicked a few unsettling tracks to scare off the unwanted BBQ leeches this Memorial Day.

Aaron Dilloway: The Beauty Bath (Side A)

A relentless buzzing occupies the space of this 23-minute long track like a fly trapped between a window and a screen. To call Aaron Dilloway’s “The Beauty Bath” ambient would be missing the point all together. His static distress call is manic and sedated while maintaining a level of complete neutrality.

WOLF EYES: Interference Part 3

The lead curators of the event, Wolf Eyes have given “dark” a new scale on which to be measured. Known for their maddening orchestral cluster-fuck, Wolf Eyes excels at all things unnerving. The trio’s latest record Interference (released earlier this month) exploits the Lars Von Trier-esque rabbit hole of sound that tangos with beauty and mortality in equal measure.

Elysia Crampton: Panic Glue (Demo)
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Panic is right. California based Elysia Crampton delivers a soundtrack suitable for that episode of Are You Afraid of the Dark? with the cigarette-smoking funhouse clown. Although her other work is more verbally haunting, with guns cocking and twinkling harpsichord layers, the underlying theme of disturbia is ever present no matter what track you click.

BONUS: Performance Artist Bailey Scieszka, a.k.a Old Put, is down with the clown and promises to suck you into her twisted world of chaos and love of WWE Smackdown.

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Follow the yellow brick road to Hell and back by clicking here for more info.

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LIVE REVIEW: RBMA Celebrates 10 Years of Sacred Bones Records

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Jenny Hval performs at Sacred Bones 10th Anniversary, part of Red Bull Music Academy Festival, at Greenpoint Terminal Warehouse, in Brooklyn, NY, USA on 20 May 2017.
Photo by Ysa Perez.

Who says witchy things don’t go down in daylight? The event designer for Sacred Bones’ 10 Year Anniversary bash certainly wanted us to feel the darkness, despite the concert’s sunny 4pm start. The Brooklyn-born record label teamed up with the Red Bull Music Academy Festival on Saturday for seven straight hours of music. The impressive lineup boasted the best of Sacred Bones’ alumni, including sets from Genesis P-Orridge (of Psychic TV and Throbbing Gristle), Uniform, Marissa Nadler, Psychic Ills, Moon Duo with Jim Jarmusch, The Men, Jenny Hval, Blanck Mass, and Zola Jesus.

Greenpoint Terminal Warehouse was a sight last weekend– bathed in white smoke and thoroughly branded with Sacred Bones’ occult insignia. Blazing neon triangles were the focal point of the room’s two stages, and if anyone has seen the new horror film The Void, they may have found these symbols a touch unsettling. Columnar black cages rose to the ceiling, filled with red and blue light – I crossed my fingers for cage dancers, but sadly, none appeared. Perhaps the most noticeable detail was the massive fabric moon that hung above the center of the audience, illuminating different colors throughout the night.

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Atmosphere at Sacred Bones 10th Anniversary, part of Red Bull Music Academy Festival, at Greenpoint Terminal Warehouse, in Brooklyn, NY, USA on 20 May 2017.
Photo by Colin Kerrigan

It was an intense tableau to enter; I was so overwhelmed by the fog machine and the imposing triangle shrines that I thought I saw a large raven out of the corner of my eye. It was a mic stand.

Time for a beer. As I ordered my 4pm libation I noticed that even the cocktails were cultish in theme, as one of them was called a “Ritual.” Very metal.

Genesis P-Orridge was the first to take stage, backed by percussionist Edely Odowd and Benjamin John Power of Blanck Mass. It was perhaps the most unsettling set of the evening, as Power knows well the discomfort buttons on his synthesizer, and P-Orridge reserves only the worst words for her anti-humanist poetry. It wasn’t a humorless performance however. After a scathing indictment of people who live in “Williamsburg…in the apartment your dad paid for,” and who “look like everyone else,” she warned us: “that was the nice song.” Looking around I saw dozens of people in motorcycle jackets like my own, and wondered if she was singing about us.

Three acts in, Marissa Nadler’s dreamy set was a welcome respite from P-Orridge’s vitriol and hardcore duo Uniform’s unbridled rage. The Boston-based folk singer added a hushed beauty to the evening; her weightless voice floating towards us on beams of purple smoke. She seemed especially fragile framed by the neon geometry and stark cages, but her dark melodies were nourishing after two harsh, a-melodic performances.

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Marissa Nadler performs at Sacred Bones 10th Anniversary, part of Red Bull Music Academy Festival, at Greenpoint Terminal Warehouse, in Brooklyn, NY, USA on 20 May 2017.
Photo by Ysa Perez.

New Yorkers Psychic Ills continued this melodious excursion with an atmospheric set that merged psych rock, stoner metal, country, and soul. However it wasn’t atmospheric in sound alone; someone was having a bit of a field day with the fog machine. The band became so enveloped in smoke that I was unaware how many people were onstage. I seemed to hear a pedal steel being played – but no pedal steel player could be found. At one point, I could see literally everything in the room…except for the band.

Despite Moon Duo’s alliance with filmmaker/guitarist Jim Jarmusch (making them, undoubtedly, Moon Trio), their droning set was the night’s most snooze-able. Maybe I just wasn’t close enough to see the nuanced facial expressions under Jarmusch’s sunglasses as he did his best Thurston Moore impression, or perhaps it was a matter of sound quality. “The singer’s mic wasn’t even on in that first couple songs,” a friend said to me after the band unplugged. I was mystified. “There were vocals?” But then again, this could have been part of Moon Duo’s plan, as the lengthy “About” section on their website points out that “the root of the word occult is that which is hidden, concealed, beyond the limits of our minds.” And our ears.

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Jim Jarmusch performs with Moon Duo at Sacred Bones 10th Anniversary, part of Red Bull Music Academy Festival, at Greenpoint Terminal Warehouse, in Brooklyn, NY, USA on 20 May 2017.
Photo by Colin Kerrigan.

Five bands, three hours, and two beers in, it was time for a cigarette. It was also time for the lady in pink to arrive. Just as I stubbed out my butt on the warehouse wall, a woman gingerly approached the venue in a hot pink puffy blouse and trousers to match. Her black hair was twisted around her head, and a sheer, flowered fascinator partially concealed her face. She looked like Pagliacci the clown dipped in Manic Panic. Intrigued, I followed her in – but she dissolved in the crowd awaiting Jenny Hval.

Hval took the trophy for most visually arresting set that night. Light beamed down in fine, white-hot needles, forming a pyramid shrine around the singer. Beacons of purple and blue smoke billowed like storm clouds trapped in a prism, and strobes of broken halogen stripes radiated around the stage. As much of a performance artist as she is a songwriter, Hval orchestrated some potent images for us. She and her entire band sported shiny, black wigs and dark velvet tunics, making them look like Druids against all the iconography. At one point, a bandmate crept up behind Hval with a pair of scissors in hand and cut her “hair” while she continued to sing. Hval clutched the cut tendrils and occasionally threw them towards us.

The mischief didn’t stop there, however. Hval’s wigged tuba player-cum-barber eventually snatched a woman from the audience – a woman, with REAL hair – and readied their shears. “We should have some more light for a haircut, don’t you think?” Hval cooed.  She serenaded her victim as the barber snipped away.

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Jenny Hvala performs at Sacred Bones 10th Anniversary, part of Red Bull Music Academy Festival, at Greenpoint Terminal Warehouse, in Brooklyn, NY, USA on 20 May 2017.
Photo by Colin Kerrigan

If Hval’s set got the blue ribbon for optical titillation, then Benjamin John Power’s one-man-army Blanck Mass took the prize for audible precision. Blanck Mass’ abrasive set felt like a new gospel baptizing us in rage and mayhem. Power’s music is so densely packed, it behaves as an ecosystem of sound, home to numerous species: metal, R&B, EDM, soul, and noise.

Blanck Mass’ prowess at electronic composition has become irrefutable with his most recent LP World Eater, but now I know how well it translates live – something I was concerned about at the start of Saturday. The relentless hour of glitchy, weaponized noise felt oddly soothing, yet incited a series of dance-like convulsions that were no more within my control than the music itself.

As it turned out, I was not the only audience member enraptured with Blanck Mass; to my left, the woman in pink was rocking back and forth, shouting “wooh!” and occasionally sipping her Ritual. She occupied the space right next to a gargantuan monitor – a place too loud even for me. Within minutes, a man standing close by noticed my blatant gawping at the neon jester, and playfully nudged, “The girl in pink is part of the show, eh?”

I looked back at him. “That’s Björk,” I asserted.

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Blanck Mass performs at Sacred Bones 10th Anniversary, part of Red Bull Music Academy Festival, at Greenpoint Terminal Warehouse, in Brooklyn, NY, USA on 20 May 2017.
Photo by Colin Kerrigan.

After being effectively knocked out by Blanck Mass and a Björk sighting, I wasn’t entirely sure how the evening could be topped – which is perhaps because I’d never seen Zola Jesus live before. Lead singer and dark mastermind Nika Roza Danilova was fiercely energetic as Saturday’s headliner, bounding back and forth onstage and engaging in some serious fist pumping.

A truly dynamic performer, Danilova was panting and shrieking one moment, and blowing us over with her arena-reaching vocals the next – all the while maintaining a severe air of seduction. The theatrical performance was grounded by Zola Jesus the band, whose minimalist violin brought to mind a more foreboding Arthur Russell.

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Zola Jesus performs at Sacred Bones 10th Anniversary, part of Red Bull Music Academy Festival, at Greenpoint Terminal Warehouse, in Brooklyn, NY, USA on 20 May 2017.
Photo by Ysa Perez.

Throughout the evening, there was one consistent remark made by artists onstage (or at least the ones who spoke): “I’d like to thank the Sacred Bones family.” On the label’s website, Sacred Bones bill themselves as “a family affair,” too. At first the notion freaked me out a bit with its cult implications. What kind of family we talkin’ here? Manson? Addams? But at the night’s close, after running into more people I knew than any other concert in the past nine years, I realized that maybe “family” is the best word. After all, a good record label does tend to bring people together. With such a talented roster – and fans like Björk and Jim Jarmusch – Sacred Bones’ RBMA Festival anniversary show is one reunion I’d gladly attend again.[/fusion_builder_column][/fusion_builder_row][/fusion_builder_container]

PLAYING BLOOMINGTON: Punks Give Back @ The Root Cellar

Punks Give Back! Bloomington is a local branch of Punks Give Back!, a national, not-for-profit organization that supports local artists and organizers to raise money for local nonprofit organizations. Punks Give Back! Bloomington organizes a monthly event with music and poetry in order to channel funds into various organizations that support local underserved and underprivileged populations. On March 4, this organization’s first event raised money in support of the UndocuHoosier’s fund. UndocuHoosier Alliance is a group that serves the needs of undocumented people at Indiana University and in Bloomington. The second event, held after Bloomington’s Zinefest, raised funds for the Bloomington Anarchist Black Cross and local prisoner support efforts. On Thursday, I caught Punks Give Back No. 3, a benefit show for the All-Options Pregnancy Resource Center in Bloomington. This center provides a number of services to people in the community: free pregnancy tests, peer counseling, diapers and baby clothes, abortion funding, condoms, adoption information, support groups, and referrals.

The third installment of Punks Give Back! Bloomington was held at the Root Cellar. Accessible via two different alleyways and through a parking lot, the Root Cellar occupies the basement of Farm, a popular restaurant in town. One has to walk through an unmarked door at the bottom of a flight of stairs to enter the Root Cellar. Despite its conspicuous location, The Root Cellar, with its hipster-meets-rustic-grime aesthetic, is a popular spot for those who prefer to avoid the more mainstream bars that cater to Indiana University’s overwhelmingly present Greek life.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Because a portion of the night’s drink sales was donated to the Resource Center, I felt less shitty about ordering a “Bill effing Murray” before I settled into a corner of the Root Cellar for the poetry portion of the night. Punks Give Back No.3 featured 8 poets: Dan “Sully” Sullivan, Mobe, Bella Bravo, Jasper Wirthshafter, T.K. Williams, Michelle Gottschich, Emily Corwin, and Eszi Waters. After a brief introduction, each poet took the stage for about five minutes. Talking points ranged from love and heartbreak to racism and gender equality. Typical to most Bloomington shows that I’ve been to, the audience, which was already impressive for a mid-week event opener, was supportive and respectful of the performers.

After the poetry had finished, the crowd reshuffled while the stage was prepared for the musical acts to come. I grabbed my second drink and wormed my way into the back of the standing room for Yalla Stockings, the first local musician of the night. Yalla Stockings is the solo venture of British transplant Charlie Jones. With a synth pad, a looping pedal, and her own airy vocals, Jones constructed ethereal, dreamy, meandering synth pop with haunting, repetitive vocal motifs. As the music began to unfold at the root cellar, the audience was physically responsive, despite the fact that Yalla Stockings was the most low-key act of the night. Yalla Stockings is not yet available for streaming anywhere on the Internet, so one has to come to Bloomington if they want to experience it.

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Doozie performing at the Root Cellar. All photos by Rebecca Kunin.

Next up was Doozie, a power pop foursome with a 90s retro grunge aesthetic. Their music is unapologetically straightforward, simple yet captivating, and extremely personal. The audience bopped around to Doozie’s upbeat and catchy riffs, yet from where I was standing the band seemed to be coolly unaware that there was any audience at all. The guitar player had his back to the audience for the entirety of the performance, while the other members seemed to be equally wrapped up in their own actions. Doozie released their first demo back in June 2016. It is available for streaming below.

New Wave-influenced spooky synthpunk band Spacer was the next act to perform. Spacer is comprised of Connor Martin (drums), Olivia Graham (bass), and Hannah Hadley (synth). During their performance, Hadley’s vocal timbre fluctuated between heightened speech, breathy soprano, and quavering vibrato over the confusing and intricate cacophony of noise. Spacer was an eclectic and energetic mixed bag of Hadley’s vocal styling, grungy baselines, spacey synth, and bouncy drum patterns. Spacer has been busy recording and performing all across town. Their most recent single, “Place 2 Go,” dropped this Saturday, May 20.

For the final act of the evening, Jessica Knight (bass and vocals) and Cassie Staub (guitar and synth) of Looming performed a stripped down version of their music. Looming is an indie rock group based out of Springfield, Illinois. At this point in the night, the crowd had thinned out, which is unsurprising as local bands often draw in bigger crowds than the larger touring acts do. But this intimate version of Looming was not to be missed. Its minimalism highlighted Knight’s sharp and punchy vocal performance, which somehow managed to straddle the line between aggression and introspection. Looming just wrapped up their countrywide tour, but their music is available for streaming via Bandcamp.

Punks Give Back! Bloomington has so far helped to show that when the world seems like an overwhelmingly terrifying and unjust place, real work can be done at the local level to help improve people’s experiences. In a state (and country) where the rights and safety of women, LGBTQ+ people, Muslim-Americans, undocumented people, and people of color have been recently under attack, it is hopeful to see local musicians and activists use their art to push back, even if it does sometimes just feel like a drop in a bucket.[/fusion_builder_column][/fusion_builder_row][/fusion_builder_container]

MORNING AFTER: Breakfast Bowls At Jimmy’s With Fraidycat

“I’m so hungover, I’m dying. You guys, I’m dying for water.” Fraidycat must think I’m tremendously professional right now, my head throbbing, my pores seeping sweat, regret, and hastily applied gardenia rollerball perfume. I’m waiting with the three-piece—made up of Andy Kinsey, Charlotte Kahn, Danny De Juan—for a table at Jimmy’s Diner, and while they’re saddled up with iced coffees I still need to hydrate. It’s the second day of a pre-summer clump, and you know how people get reckless in hot weather. The climate-tolerable friend-of-friend rooftop parties! The tallboys with tall boys! The early morning Uber Pools of Shame from Bedwick-Stuywood!

I’m talking in generalities, of course. On to our guests of honor.

Fraidycat works quickly. After just over a year together they’ve released Other Better Places with Bushwick-based cassette label GP Stripes. Taking a bite out of the lead track “Best Pie” gives you a proper taste of the band’s slop-pop neurosis. In less than a minute and a half Andy and Charlotte rattle off all the fears one has when hearing about an old love’s new S.O. (“Is he in a band and does he smoke the same cigarettes as me?”) Fraidycat is very successful at making your anxieties sound upbeat and fun. So I’m sure this band, this brunch, and the tall glass of water calling my name (“Come over here, Mary Grace, you idiot.”) will distract me properly from this pain in my temples. It’s gonna be a lovely pre-summer day!


The Scene: Jimmy’s was an apparent no-brainer; Charlotte had already eaten there twice that week and the host had warmly welcomed the band when they put their name down for a table. It’s neat, a typical American diner with the excepted Williamsburg-approved touches of hipness: breakfast bowls, retro Christmas lights, fuzzy punk rock and boozy milkshakes (oof, pass).

12:41 “Are you guys excited for your release show? Do you have any special activities planned?” I wonder, water long acquired. “Pin the tail on the donkey, or…?”

“Besides music at the show?” Charlotte asks. Yes. The band starts shooting off ideas: beer pong, cornhole, a glitter station so people can glitter their face, or, as Danny suggests, “that thing in church where you take a moment and turn to your neighbor and say ‘Peace Be With You’.” Sky’s the limit, but Andy isn’t sure any of these ideas will come to life.

“‘I always get ideas and I think, “That’s going to be so cool to do,’ and then the time comes and I’m like, ‘I can’t do that,’” He says. “I went to see Kool Keith once, and in the middle of his show he stopped the music and passed out Handi-Snacks.”

That could work, too.

12:57 “I’m so glad that you called this because I was honestly drawing a blank…” Andy starts.

“On places to go?” Charlotte finishes. “Well, I wasn’t.” Andy asks to try some of her grits and hot sauce and then mentions the band is going on tour soon.

“We’re going to play in Newport, Rhode Island,” He says. “We went to Boston last summer with Thick because Charlotte’s girlfriend is the drummer – you know Kate Black?”

“I know of Kate Black,” I say (like in a several-mutual-friends-on-Facebook way).

“Kate is our mutual friend who introduced us. And when we go up to Rhode Island and Conneticut we’re going with True Dreams, they’re like our new friend-band.”

I perk up at this: “That’s so exciting that when you’re in a band you can become friends with other bands, ’cause it’s like you become little collectives, little entities.”

“Even if one person in one band might hate the other person in the other band, the bands are still friends,” Danny says.

“Right, the bands are still friends, it doesn’t unravel it,” I nod.

“They’re such little sweeties though, aren’t they?” Danny asks.

“There’s nothing I hate about them,” says Charlotte.

1:03 Andy’s an alumni of the band I’ve routinely referred to as “Shark Question Mark” (i.e. Shark?) and he’s talking about how this project works to break away from the typical, “dude band” mold.

“So kind of the rough idea of starting Fraidycat was, as much as possible, I wanted to work with women. Dara from Operator mixed our album.” Which I think is such a cool concept but, “There’s an element of it that makes it a little bit grossed out,” he confesses. Why’s that?

“Like it feels kind of gimmicky, but at the same time I have a daughter and she’s always come with me to recording sessions. And I think about it and I’m like…she’s a little kid, she doesn’t know what she wants to do with her life. But if she can see other women playing drums or see other women recording…You have to create that.”

I’m very endeared by this. “Honestly, I love that. It’s so important to get representation in media or within the workforce because then little girls see it to and they think, ‘Ok, cool, I can be like that.'”

In a shocking reveal, Andy had tried out a girl for guitar before joining forces with Danny, and Charlotte, as previously mentioned, touched base with the two after hearing about them from Kate. Charlotte also plays in Rat’s Mouth, so they showed up at her show wearing leather jackets (everyone laughs at this), having clearly done some light Internet stalking before hand – but possibly not enough.

“One of you went up to my sister and thought it was me and introduced yourselves and she was like, ‘Wrong person.'” Charlotte recounts.

“Close enough” I say. “I mean, maybe not close enough, but close. It was like, ballpark.”

“Genetically it was close,” Charlotte says.

1:12 We’re chatting about the common practice of seducing crowd-goers through Tinder on tour, because what else is there to do in Asheville? Charlotte is issuing a sarcastic example with, “‘Come get this pussy. Just kidding, but don’t fucking talk to me. Come to the show but don’t look at me.'”

“‘Come to the show but I don’t actually want to talk, hang out, or make eye contact at any point.'” I phone in.

“I would always do that but they would always match us like the day after and I’d be like, ‘Oh, you’re so cute, but yeah, I’m in Kentucky.'”

“‘Can you drive here, it’s only seven hours away?'” Charlotte says. And then Andy has a story for us:

“There was one tour with a friend’s band where this guy got stuck in a dungeon.”

“What, like a dungeon-dungeon?” I ask.

“Like a sex dungeon. And they had to go pick him up the next day. They couldn’t find him – he had wandered off and he was like, ‘Yeah, I went on this Tinder date and ended up in this dungeon.’ It’s a pretty awesome story. Like, ‘Come on guys, we gotta pick up Nick, he’s in a basement out in Toledo.'” I asked if he ended up ok, and Andy says he only lost his shoes and his phone.

“Well, he gained a few psychological scars, so there is that,” I say.

“We’ll have to see what the dungeon life is like in New England.”

“Gin and tonic tumblers.”

“They all have extensive heritage.”

“George Washington actually passed through this sex dungeon.”

“He slept here.”

1:20 “I feel like this is a good representation of how I conduct myself in my romantic life,” Andy says of the painting hanging over our table. “I’m always like, ‘Is this…good? Is this how you do this?” I know that feel.

Danny starts telling us a story about something that happened at a work luncheon. “The account manager who was running the event asked beforehand if I had a fun fact she could use to introduce me. So I mentioned the band and that we had our first record coming out. And she gets up there in front of all these IT security professionals and is like, ‘And an interesting thing about Daniel is that he’s in a band called The Fraidy Cats.”

Everyone cracks up at this.

“And then you skipped out like, ‘Hiiii, I’m Daniel,'” says Charlotte.

“Danny and The Fraidy Cats” Andy adds.

“You lost all your credibility before you could fucking speak,” Charlotte says.

1:44 I’ve never watched the Alien series, but Charlotte and Andy are binging each movie and I’m learning that every movie has an android who has “cream of wheat instead of blood” and that Andy pronounces Sigourney Weaver’s name as “Suh-ger-nee” (either way, it’s “not what you name a baby”). But beyond sci-fi movie marathons, the band hopes to fit in some beach hangs once tour is over. Charlotte has it all planned out: “Bring a guitar, write some songs, stress about how bad the songs are, not enjoy the ocean, maybe cry a little bit about how we’re never going to make it as a band. And maybe swim a couple of times.”

“Let the ocean wash the tears away,” Andy concludes. They also have designs on playing an acoustic set (with stand up drums!) and recording a song with all of their own equipment.

It’s clear by now that Fraidycat works fast and frantically, but I assure them they have time. “You can probably pencil it in between now and death.”

Charlotte chokes on her water at this.

Despite nearly killing off 1/3rd of the band, Fraidycat walks me halfway to the BQE before we part ways. My head still hurts, but I feel better – refreshed, and not just because I finally got some goddamn water. In the midst of a million pseudo-serious Brooklyn dude bands, I love groups who can churn out rapid-fire ideas, wisecracking all the way. And like the anxiety-tinged tunes off Other Better Places, Fraidycat has the ability to make any painful moment feel fun, or at the very least funny. And that makes me feel that with the Other Better Places chapter about to start, there’s great things lying ahead for the band… distinguished WASPy sex dungeons notwithstanding.

You can follow Fraidycat on Facebook and check out Other Better Places on Soundcloud.

NEWS ROUNDUP: RIP Chris Cornell, More PWR BTTM Controversy & More

  • RIP Chris Cornell

    Chris Cornell, the frontman of Soundgarden and Audioslave as well as one of the most important figures in the Seattle grunge scene, was found dead yesterday morning. By the afternoon, his death was reported as a  suicide by hanging. Though it seems like an endless stream of musicians have passed since David Bowie’s death in early 2016, Cornell’s was particularly unexpected and left many reeling, as he had performed a concert in Detroit the night before and was active on social media throughout the night as well. He was 52.

  • PWR BTTM Respond To Allegations, But Is It Enough?

    In the week since the allegations of sexual assault and other inappropriate behavior against Ben Hopkins of PWR BTTM, there has been a ton of fallout – the duo was dropped by their label and management, their touring members and opening bands left the tour before it was cancelled for good, Father Daughter Records has stated they will remove their old releases from streaming services, and Polyvinyl is even issuing refunds if former fans send back their brand new record, Pageant. But other than a statement that asked potential victims to email an account that would at some point be monitored by a mediator, a move that was deemed inappropriate for a variety of reasons, the band was silent until yesterday. They’ve released a new statement, but it seems to raise the same questions and criticisms: about consent, about accountability, and the language used to discuss it. Namely, that their statement contains a whole lot of words, but dances around the issue in an unsettling way. You can read both the statement and a thoughtful response here.

  • Chelsea Manning Is Free & Has Her Own Compilation

    Chelsea Manning, the former Army intelligence analyst who came out as transgender after being convicted of espionage for leaking classified information, has finally been released – Thanks, Obama! Now, rockstars are voicing their support for in the form of a benefit compilation. Michael Stipe, Thurston Moore, Against Me!, Tom Morello, Ted Leo, Downtown Boys, Priests, Screaming Females, Talib Kweli, Amanda Palmer, and Kevin Devine have all contributed to Hugs For Chelsea, the proceeds of which go toward her cost of living as she reenters society. Check it out on Bandcamp.

ONLY NOISE: Summertime Blues

The shorts are out. The pasty, prickly legs wearing the shorts are out, too. It’s sunny every day and we’re starting to remember that we own arms, and shins, and sandals. Birds chirp in the morning, cats moan at night, and hemlines rise with the temperatures. Isn’t it great?

That all depends. Sure, we’re in pleasant weather now, but before you know it you’ll be sweating through pants and underpants, kicking your bedmate away at night, and trying to schmooze your way into the esteemed echelons of friends with air conditioning units.

Summer is upon us early this year, prompting me to address my fellow shade seekers. Don’t worry, I can’t #summer either. How could I? I don’t play ultimate Frisbee. My surfing lessons started and stopped on a wave-less day at Rockaway Beach. I can “ride a bike” only in the capacity that I can “cook” – for survival purposes alone. And until they can make a bikini out of a black turtleneck and a motorcycle jacket, I will feel perpetually out of place in summer outfits, or as some call them, “dresses.”

So what are we supposed to listen to on the 85-degree days, crouched under patches of shade while everyone else at the BBQ dances to “summer jamz”? Don’t we get an anti-Ibiza anthem? In fact, there are plenty of songs commiserating with our Heliophobia. And yes, most of them are by Morrissey. The lugubrious Brit couldn’t have possibly maintained that sallow glow by overexposing himself to the UV Rays, now could he?

Songs like “The Lazy Sunbathers,” “Lifeguard Sleeping, Girl Drowning,” and Morrissey’s cover of Patti Smith’s “Redondo Beach” wink at the singer’s grotesque relationship with warm weather and those who enjoy it. The former seems to correlate catching a few rays with mass public ignorance. “The lazy sunbathers,” Moz croons, “Too jaded/To question stagnation/The sun burns through/To the planet’s core/And it isn’t enough/They want more.” Only an Englishman could vilify sun seekers so much.

But it’s the melodramatic “Lifeguard On Duty” from 1990’s Bona Drag that injects a common summer job with existential weight.

“The work you chose has a practical vein/But I read much more into your name/Lifeguard” Morrissey intones.

The only mention of Moz getting wet at this beach, however, is when he walks back through the center of the town, “Drenched in phlegm every time that I come home/Lifeguard save me from life/…Save me from the ails and the ills/And from other things.” Other things…like phlegm.

Another known hater of the heat is Philly’s oddball balladeer David E. Williams, whose menacing “Summer Wasn’t Made For You And Me” really sums life for the sunless.

Stalking a snowy Coney Island in a suit and tie, Williams drones, “Summer wasn’t made for you and me/With its screaming children and the heat’s obscenity/And all the stupid palefaces from town/Ridiculously fashionably brown.”

It’s a real beach party.

In my defense, I’ve gotten much better at summering in the past 15 years. My black clothing and I have come a long way since our first punk rock summer together in 2003, when I refused to wear anything but a patched hoodie and skinny jeans regardless of the season. I went three full years without revealing more than my hands and head to the sun, covering myself like a Victorian aristocrat.

Come freshman year of high school I decided it was finally time to embrace my Spanish heritage and get a tan. This was largely prompted by the fact that my best friend at the time, Daniel, criticized my forced paleness. “You tan naturally. Trying to force yourself pale is the same as all of the pale girls in school going to tanning beds.” Touché. Cocky with the knowledge that I’d never sunburned before, I lay out for hours one day sans sunblock – and subsequently turned a painful shade of cooked crustacean.

Since then I’ve found a safe space between full-body coverage and UV searing, but it’s still a struggle to exist in the summertime. Perhaps denial would be a wise approach to our collective heatstroke; it certainly worked for The Magnetic Fields’ Stephin Merritt in the deliciously sullen “I Don’t Believe In The Sun.”

“So I don’t believe in the sun,” Merritt wails. “How could it shine down on everyone/And never shine on me/How could there be/Such cruelty.”

Whether it is the sun, or summer love that left you scorched, Merritt assures us that ignoring our problems will definitely make them go away. Like Morrissey, The Magnetic Fields write recurring fuck-yous to the hi-temp months. In “Summer Lies” we hear a tale of deception.

“All the sweetest things you said and I believed were summer lies/Hanging in the willow trees like the dead were summer lies/I’ll never fall in love again.”

Perhaps summer-lovers are better at summer love, but Merritt and his Magnetic Fields may never know.

The odd thing about both Merritt and Morrissey is that although they are insufferable miserablists, they write such goddamn catchy pop songs that their melodies often outshine their dour lyrics. So bring the boombox to the beach, and from beneath your umbrella and wide-brimmed hat, sing along:

“The only sun I ever knew/Was the beautiful one that was you/Since you went away/It’s night time all day/And it’s usually raining, too.”

I bet no one will even notice.

The greatest betrayal of summer is one we don’t understand until we graduate and join the workforce. Summer becomes a myth; a vestige of childhood when adults paid our rent, fed us, and all we had to worry about was what to do on Saturday night. But now we have what Eddie Cochran (and Robert Gordon, and Joan Jett, and Marc Bolan) referred to as the “Summertime Blues.”

“I’m gonna raise a fuss, I’m gonna raise a holler/About a-workin’ all summer just to try to earn a dollar.”

As kids we used to play in the woods (where there’s plenty of shade), go on long camping excursions, and eat ice cream without an ounce of regret. But here we are: staring at desktops and clicking away, still waiting for the school bell.

But at least we have The Magnetic Fields and Morrissey to crouch in the shade with – what’s that you say? Moz moved to Hollywood, got a tan and abandoned us? He is a Lazy Sunbather now, too?

Well, in the words of David E. Williams:

“Was summer made for them?/Well, yes, maybe/But summer wasn’t made for you and me.”

And let’s not forget, that in addition to sunburns and heatstroke, summer also=SHARKS.

LIVE REVIEW: Perfume Genius @ Brooklyn Steel

An unexpected warmth greets me at Brooklyn Steel. Defying the industrial structure, a pink tropical backdrop hangs over a stage flanked by palm fronds, which seem to wave at the sold-out crowd. It is a set-up that hints at one of two possible realities: 1) A lush, theatrical performance by headliner Perfume Genius is in store. 2) The atmosphere is merely consistent with their recent press shots.

I am desperately hoping for the former, but having never before seen Mike Hadreas and company in concert, the night’s fate is unknown. Fortunately, the décor suits opening act Serpentwithfeet just fine. The occult-gospel-cum-jazz outfit helmed by Josiah Wise opens with sparse, chilling pieces. I say pieces because “song” seems too limiting a word for the confessional poems and trip hop ballads sprinkled throughout Serpentwithfeet’s set; perhaps “spells” would be more fitting. Wise conveys great range as a vocal performer and pianist, yes, but also in his wit and charisma, which has the early-bird crowd tearfully singing along one moment and laughing the next. I can’t help but wonder if his theatrics will be echoed by Hadreas.

My thirst for drama is quenched the moment Perfume Genius appears, slinking on stage to the violent, Rococo strings of “Choir” from their recent LP No Shape. Hadreas saunters towards us in a white Byron blouse tucked into a pinstripe jumpsuit – the latter looking like it once strutted the runways of Vivienne Westwood.

It is such a powerful entrance, that I’m nearly knocked over when the four piece then open with “Otherside.” In its first minute, No Shape’s commencing track disguises itself as a fragile piano ballad – a lullaby even. But after Hadreas coos, “rocking you to sleep from the otherside,” a cannon of bass, glitter, and wailing angels is shot through our organs, leaving us shuddering and primed for more.

“Otherside” is the one moment of austerity before Hadreas changes shape, shifting into an undulating lord of seduction; part Morrissey, part Annie Lennox, and part Peter Pan. He gyrates and circles his hips, popping one pale shoulder out of his crisp shirt and then slipping it back in again. Hadreas is at his most vampish on cuts like “Go Ahead” and the dark Elvis romp “My Body” off of 2014’s breakout album Too Bright.

Thunderous jungle drums sew the set together, adding a sinister undercurrent to the evening. The performance feels slightly intoxicating; like, say, a fine perfume should. I find myself wrapped in chills throughout, and plumbed with pumping hot blood. Hadreas is the performer we’ve been waiting for. He whets our appetite with opulent musicality and erotic posturing, but nourishes us with complex song structure, poignant lyrics, and gorgeous instrumentation. He is, as they say, a package deal.

Such a package in fact, that little whiffs of his component scents start cropping up as he performs. I’m smelling Kate Bush, Little Richard, Portishead, The Cramps, Madame Butterfly, and the soundtrack to Twin Peaks. But like a fragrance, the sum of its parts reveals something entirely new when mixed properly.

During Perfume Genius’ five-song encore (a formality I typically hate, but was ecstatic for in this situation) Hadreas sat down for a piano rendition of “Mr. Peterson,” from his debut record Learning. Before he began, he motioned long-time boyfriend and bandmate Alan Wyffels to the keyboard, where they played a duet to an ooh-ing audience. And then, the band reassembled for the one moment I’d predicted correctly all evening: the finale was Too Bright’s shining anthem “Queen.” But despite my suspicions, Hadreas did not sashay away at the song’s end. He simply walked, and waved, and thanked us.

PLAYING DETROIT: Shady Groves Releases Romantic Short Film “Stay Strange”

With their short film “Stay Strange,” Shady Groves gives us the love story we need – a sweetly cinematic tale of new lovers (that likely met by swiping right), refreshing in its lack of cynicism. The film bookends the title track with two other songs (“Me & You” and “Dysthymia”), resulting in a totally pure embodiment of the weightlessness of falling in love without expectation.

Via a mandolin couch serenade, the clumsy uncorking of wine bottles, and living room slow dancing, we are reminded of the quiet beginning of things. Like the suite of songs, the video (created by Elaine Smith) mirrors the anticipation and relief of blossoming romance without a shred of anxiety or sardonic disguise. The video’s red hue shifts into explosions of colors and shapes superimposed like a veil over footage of our adorably smitten twosome as they move from introductory hugs to L-shaped secret-swapping bed dwellers. A hybrid of several genres (and obvious inspiration from bands like The Lumineers), “Stay Strange” reminds us that intimacy is as simple (or as complicated) as looking at someone long enough to note the burst of color around their iris or tracing the outline of scars from childhood playground accidents. Intimacy is an invitation and Shady Groves make it feel pretty damn good. Clean off your couch and light a candle, we’ve got company.

Swoon with Shady Groves’ latest “Stay Strange” below, or stream their debut, Bitzer, via Bandcamp.

PLAYING BLOOMINGTON: Amy O on Zine Culture and Basement Pop

Seventy low laps around the track
You’ll want to look back
From Ohio to the east onto the midwest
Time pools in the past

Amy Oelsner (otherwise known as Amy O) has been fine-tuning her brand of grunge-infused basement pop since 2004. Although some might know her as one-half of the Bloomington-based duo Brenda’s Friend (alongside Erin Tobey), Oelsner has been focusing on her solo career as of late. Over the years, Amy O has gradually shifted away from a folk minimalism and towards a heavier and fuller sound, yet her lyrics remain unabashedly personal and genuine. Oelsner (guitar, vocals), supported by her backing band of Madeline Robinson (bass/vocals), Justin Vollmar (drums), Damion Schiralli (guitar), and Aaron Denton (keys/vocals), has been busy performing in venues across town while preparing for her upcoming tour and album release.

Over the years, Amy O has worked hard to refine and develop her songwriting skills. In high school, she took up the guitar and began learning to write songs. Yet aside from playing in a few bands at college, much of the music that she created over the next eight years remained largely unshared. However, participating in a song a day project pushed Amy O to self-release four albums in 2012. As Amy O’s songwriting confidence grew with each release, she learned to push harder and become unapologetic about writing from her perspective.  

Oelsner admitted that in her earlier songwriting, she was anxious about being labeled as “girlie.” Unfortunately, we still live in a heterosexist patriarchy that relies on the false notion that there is a natural, biologically rooted gender binary where men are associated with masculinity and females are associated with femininity (and the former is deemed superior to the latter). Things that are thought as having “feminine qualities” are therefore coded as being less substantial. “Girlie” becomes a subtle way to call something “frivolous,” or “infantile.” However, being read as “feminine” and making music that is perceived to be “girlie” is not better or worse than anything else. Amy O’s music breaks down these false dichotomies by demonstrating that good songwriting has more to do with practice and developing a skill than with whether music sounds “hard” or “soft,” “raw” or “polished.” Since moving to Bloomington, Amy O has been recording and performing regularly. Arrow was released in February 2016 via Bloomington’s Let’s Pretend Records.
Amy O’s upcoming album, Elastic, continues in the direction she has been moving towards for a while now. Even more stylized than Arrow, Elastic hones in on her basement pop aesthetic while establishing a fuller sound. Elastic will be released August 4th off of Winspear, a local record label in town.

When she isn’t busy performing at local venues such as the Bishop and Jan’s Rooms, Amy Oelsner has quite possibly the coolest day job ever, leading the Zine Making Program at Rhino’s Youth Center in Bloomington. As the Assistant Director and the Creative Writing Program Director, Oelsner has filled almost every position at Rhino’s; the Zine Making Program is her newest passion. This ongoing workshop puts out a quarterly zine, each focused on a different theme, which is voted on by the participating teens. Last quarter’s zine, Neurodivergence, focused on issues of self-care and mental health. A previous issue, LGBTQ+ Teen Resource Guide, concentrated on gender and sexuality. 
 

When introducing them to the teens at Rhino’s, Amy Oelsner defines a zine as a “self-published little book that can have writing or drawing or really anything. It’s part of the D.I.Y. culture and is something that has been around for a really long time.” Oelsner has been reading zines since she was a teenager, growing up in Fayetteville, Arkansas. Doris and Cometbus are two of her favorites.  When questioned about why the specific format and style of zines are so important for those who are trying to share their story, Oelsner added, “It’s inherently a safe space. There’s something about it that’s just like, this is my space to be myself, and share my views. A lot of people don’t feel like they have that in their life and I think that’s why it is so important to people.” According to Oelsner, zines provide a space for people who might otherwise be ignored or misrepresented by the mainstream media to share their own story and perspective. Teenagers, for instance, don’t often get the opportunity to share their own stories. Oelsner’s zine making workshop works to break down these discords.  

In addition to being a safe space to tell one’s story, Oelsner also argues that zines are especially equipped to resonate with and connect subcultural “outsiders” because of their relatability. As pieces of material culture that embrace the D.I.Y. aesthetic, zines are purposefully rough around the edges. Because zines move directly from the producer to the reader without having to pass through gatekeepers (editors, publicists, journalists, etc.), the messages that they relay are raw, uncut, and genuine. Furthermore, this aesthetic encourages readers to participate actively in the scene. Readers are inspired to pick up the scissors and glue sticks, and share their own stories.

As zines circulate – often shared with friends and family members, sold at community centers, and distributed at shows – their stories have the ability to affect people outside of their immediate radius. LGBTQ+ Teen Resource Guide, for instance, somehow made its way to a school library in Ohio. Oelsner’s own upcoming zine, Yoko Oh Yes, which features female musicians, will be sold alongside her other merch on tour this summer. This zine will also include illustrations from Bethany Lumsdaine and Jessie Grub, local zinesters (and graduates of the Rhino’s zine workshop) who publish Shut up and Listen alongside their own radio show.  

Amy O moved to Bloomington, Indiana in 2013, after living in Fayetteville, Arkansas, Oberlin, Ohio, Northampton, Massachusetts, and, most recently, Brooklyn, New York. Understandably, she had a number of things to say about why the Bloomington punk scene stands out among the rest. While New York City, for instance, is an established hub for artists, it is notoriously difficult to live there as a musician. Rent is high, there is very little space to practice loud music, and music venues (especially D.I.Y. ones) are constantly closing due to corporate push-outs and rising rent in rapidly changing neighborhoods. The scene is fast-moving, and largely anonymous. In contrast, most Bloomington shows take place in the basements of houses, or in D.I.Y. venues that replicate a house show set up. Houses and venues become established and develop their own reputations and fan bases. The same faces can be seen from one show to the next. According to Oelsner, the scene almost purposefully maintains some old fashioned practices. For instance, people still tend to flyer for their shows. In short, the scene is smaller, more personal, and extremely supportive of local artists. This supportive environment fosters a number of collaborative projects. Amy O, for instance, collaborates with Erin Tobey, Nice Try, Vollmar, Spissy, and Laughing Gas.  

Amy O’s upcoming full-length album, Elastic, will be out August 4th via Bloomington’s Winspear. Oelsner will be touring this summer to promote Elastic and her upcoming zine Yoko Oh Yes. Locals can catch her up in Indianapolis on June 17 at the Hi-Fi.

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LIVE REVIEW: San Fermin @ Brooklyn Steel

On May 13, San Fermin returned to Brooklyn, where they got their start, to put on a show worth remembering. Though the venue, Brooklyn Steel, just opened, several band members mentioned during the show just how important it was to be playing a homecoming gig, and they performed their hearts out to show their love and appreciation for the journey they’ve been on so far.

San Fermin is the brainchild of Ellis Ludwig-Leone, who produces and writes songs for the band. San Fermin’s third album Belong was just released in April of this year, and it reveals a more solid, confident side than prior albums. Part of that comes from the lyrics’ vulnerability; for Belong, Ellis confronted his anxiety and fear of disconnection, making it more raw but all the stronger for that. Not only has Ellis become a more self-assured and immersed bandleader, but the synergy between all band members are at a peak. This came across immediately and enthusiastically in their performance.

The show started off with “Oceanica” and “Bride,” two tracks off their latest album that both hold the ethereal yet foreboding aura that’s to be expected from San Fermin. Frontwoman and multi-instrumentalist Charlene Kaye was an elegant Siren in a silver jumpsuit who swung her head and danced with fluid movements perfectly matched to each song. At one point, she grabbed a guitar and stood on the drumset, illuminated in light, arms extended and holding the guitar overhead as she strummed, relishing her grounding lead role amongst the discordant charm that embodies much of San Fermin’s music.

On tracks like “Methuselah”  Kaye made space for her co-vocalist Allen Tate, their voices complimented, encouraged, and enriched one another perfectly as they passionately delivered their messages while the rest of the band was enveloped in shadow, giving the illusion of two people singing simultaneously while occupying separate worlds. When the two sang duets together, such as with “Parasites,” there was a radiating admiration between the pair that reverberated as deeply as Tate’s baritone.

When Kaye took to the drums during the encore performance of “Happiness Will Ruin this Place,” “Astronaut,” and “Oh Darling,” it allowed for other members of the group to shine as brightly as she had. “Oh Darling” saw striking vocals from the newest member of San Fermin, violinist Claire Wellin.

There was a mutual respect between everyone on stage that permeated the show deeply. Between songs, they gradually introduced members of the band and held for applause. Ellis was introduced before the band left the stage for its encore, and the applause was (unsurprisingly) staggering, taking maybe even him by surprise. The reverence held by the band for its leader was felt by each person in the audience as we cheered in an attempt to convey our appreciation for what he’s created.

San Fermin’s Brooklyn Steel show was a pinnacle of their musical career, one that highlighted a band that has grown into itself and embraced its full potential. Seeing such a performance in the city where the band got its beginnings can only go down as a momentous occasion within that musical career.

TRACK OF THE WEEK: Jesse “De-pression”

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Jesse Jerome Jenkins V will release his solo debut as Jesse on June 23.

As the lead singer of Pure X, Jesse Jerome Jenkins V made hazy psych-pop as blissed out as his band’s moniker would imply. But it’s been three years since the release of Angel, leaving fans to wonder what became of the Austin act. That changed last month when Jesse (going by his first name only) shared “Hard Sky,” the first single from an upcoming album of the same title, slated for release June 23 via Uniform Group. Now, he’s released a second single, “De-pression,” which adds a nuanced new perspective in the growing conversation surrounding mental health.

Though there have been plenty of songs to tackle this weighty topic, there are few that favor chimes and mellotron over guitar-driven angst. Vocally, Jenkins channels Tyrannosaurus Rex-era Mark Bolan in his ruminations on the nature of chemical imbalance. In one choral couplet, Jenkins describes depression “like a hammer down on me” and a “flower just for me” over a nonchalant bass groove; the track is less an attempt to cheer himself up as it is an attempt to embrace the emotional ups and downs so many have experienced. While riding out a depressive episode without professional help isn’t advisable for all, there’s something to be said for Jenkins’ fearless portrayal of his personal struggle. His honest narrative goes a long way toward encouraging dialogue from an angle acceptance, and its melodically soothing tones might provide a salve for frayed nerves in the process.

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NEWS ROUNDUP: Allegations Against PWR BTTM, ACLU’s Rockstar & More

  • PWR BTTM Cancel Release Show Following Allegations

    Over the past few days, allegations of predatory behavior and sexual abuse were made against Ben Hopkins of PWR BTTM, and an anti-semitic photo of Hopkins from 2011 has again resurfaced. While the former was previously addressed by the band, many fans were taken by complete surprise regarding the allegations of violated consent, despite the fact that some of their peers state they were warned about this behavior months ago. The Brooklyn band T-Rextasy is one of them, and has cancelled their July tour with PWR BTTM. Tonight’s Rough Trade release show for Pageant has also been cancelled.

    While the band has not outright confirmed or denied these allegations, they’ve released a statement that includes the offer for victims to send an email to an account that will allegedly only be accessible by an as-yet unidentified mediator. This has sparked further criticism as well as a discussion about accountability; Jes Skolnik does an amazing job of breaking it down via Medium.

  • Meet The ACLU Employee Who Is Also A Rockstar

    Pinky Weitzman is the deputy director of the ACLU, in charge of helping the organization adapt to the modern age. She’s been described as one of its “greatest digital minds.” She’s also a touring member of the Magnetic Fields, and performs with other big-name musicians and in musicals. Instead of taking a break from the ACLU to go on a Magnetic Fields tour, after the election, she decided to take on both roles simultaneously. Read the NBC feature on Weitzman here.

  • Pink Floyd’s Animals Inspires Protest Art

    A Chicago architect wants to relieve the city- at least for a day- of seeing the Trump Tower logo. Jeffrey Roberts is still seeking the city’s approval for his “Flying Pigs on Parade,” which entails tethering several huge, gold, inflatable pigs to a barge to block the letters of Trump’s name. The project was inspired by Pink Floyd’s use of a pig balloon for their 1997 album Animals, and Roger Waters has given Roberts his approval and permission. 

ARTIST INTERVIEW: Monograms Discuss New ‘Silencer’ EP

Originally a solo project created by Brooklyn musician Ian Jacobs, Monograms is now a fully fledged band. Their latest release, Silencer, explores a grittier side of hook-filled pop music by distilling it with elements of lo-fi garage rock. There’s a sense of dreaminess that hangs over the entire EP, akin to looking through the haze of a smoky room. It gives Silencer a cohesive feeling, though the four songs were each recorded in different studios with varying lineups.

It begins with the surfy guitar riff of “Sharp Teeth,” with angsty, drawn out vocals that float dreamily over fuzzy guitars and a solid beat, as they reiterate a romantic plight: “Your smile, my disaster.” “Ok Promises” falls on the opposite side of the spectrum as an upbeat, dancey track with a breathless chorus. “Radio Controller” is slightly toned down in comparison, but still retains some of its energy in nervously descending guitar lines, while “Trails” is a straight ahead ode to late night living that ominously declares, “I’m just a vampire.”

Ian filled us in on how Monograms became a band, recorded Silencer and found the EP’s awesome cover art. Read on below:

AudioFemme: Monograms originally started as a solo bedroom project. How did you make the transition to a full band?

Ian Jabcobs: I wrote the songs that ended up becoming the first EP and recorded them as just a whatever-fun-get-some-songs-out-of-my-head kind of thing. I played a few shows solo with drum machines, and a buddy of mine asked if he could play some real drums. It took me about two seconds to realize the songs were a lot more fun with others in the room, so I just kept adding people and now Monograms is a four-piece band. 

I’m still the main song writer, but the other dudes in the band create a lot of things, especially during the live show, that I could never replicate. We have some new songs that have been much more collaborative, which I’m super stoked about.

AF: Each song on this EP represents a different lineup of Monograms, and was recorded during a different session. Can you elaborate on the different lineups, and your recording process/experience?

IJ: The four songs are a mix of about a year and a half of recording sessions, most of which started at home and then finished at different studios around Brooklyn. It was an interesting ride, because this was all during that time the lineup was changing and expanding.  All the tracks are from really different landscapes and head spaces, but I was just writing stuff, not thinking about a release. A couple of the tunes are from the drum machine days and some were written as a full band. It really wasn’t until just a few months before the EP was even released that I thought, hey, maybe I can make an EP out of these four tunes. So I did.

AF: Can you tell me about the Silencer cover art?

IJ: I follow a bunch of mixed media visual artists online… when I saw that image I knew right away I wanted it to be the cover. I liked that it was a person that’s there… but not really there. Also the theme of a few songs on Silencer are about how words and talking can be sort of meaningless sometimes. And I think that the imagery goes along with the EP title. 

I’m actually way more interested in what it means to other people. I think that’s honestly the biggest reason why I liked it so much. It’s simple but says something loud that’s open to interpretation.

AF: What are your major influences, musically and otherwise?

IJ: That’s kind of a tough one to answer cause I honestly think everything you do or see is an influence. For better or worse, it’s in there somewhere. I also listen to a lot of things all the time – modern hip-hop and books on tape not excluded.

AF: I feel like there’s a sense of dreaminess that connects the entire EP – is this intentional? To what extent are the songs inspired by your own life and experiences?

IJ: I don’t know if the psych/dreamy stuff is intentional but it’s definitely there. It’s a huge part of a lot of the music I listen to, but it’s probably just a sense of me trying to get my subconscious to write, it’s easier to do that when you can zone out a little. I think that’s where I want to be. Thinking but not too much, or at least not realizing it. Thinking is overrated. That said, all the songs are about my life experience, currently in progress.

Silencer is out now; listen below and download the EP here.

ONLY NOISE: Teenage

“Teenage, teenage/I want a car, I want a girl.”

It’s 10am, and the 1979 hit “Teenage” by L.A. punks The Weirdos rotates maliciously in my head. I meant to wake up hours ago, but the weighty fuzz of last night’s beer kept me tucked in.

“Teenage, teenage/Don’t wanna work, don’t wanna go to school.”

I don’t believe it. I’m being mocked by my subconscious – and I haven’t even had coffee yet.

My dream state has produced an apt song to score the morning. It must have known that I’ve been feeling “Teenage, teenage…”

I’ve been thinking a lot about the teen image in pop music lately – and wondering if it is to blame for my arrested development. It’s not the most reliable theory, but hey, it’s possible.

The teenager is a relatively new concept to Western history, and yet the moment it was introduced like a sparkly new car model near the close of World War II, the identity found a home in popular culture. Born in 1944, Seventeen magazine was the first periodical to specifically target this new demographic. Naturally, the film, fashion, and music industries weren’t far behind in glossing their products for teen appeal. Teen-themed songs shined especially bright.

Early instances of the teen hit included “Seventeen” by Boyd Bennett and His Rocket (1955), Chuck Berry’s “Sweet Little Sixteen” (1958), and “A Teenager In Love” by Dion and the Belmonts (1959). Of course the trope has persisted into contemporary music, although teenagers themselves often sing the songs, which is far more comforting. When The Undertones released “Teenage Kicks” in 1978, the band members had hardly touched their twenties. When Chuck Berry sang “Sweet Little Sixteen,” however, he was 32 – not so sweet, Chuck!

More recently, Cherry Glazerr’s “Teenage Girl” was written by 19-year-old Clementine Creevy, and Lorde’s “White Teeth Teens” from 2013’s Pure Heroine was recorded when Lorde was still a teen herself. These tracks are just a couple of current reminders that the motif isn’t going away any time soon. And why would it? It seems now more than ever the teen and tween sectors hold an influential hand over the pop culture marketplace. Goliath hit makers such as Katy Perry (“Teenage Dream”), Drake (“Teenage Fever”), and Khalid (“American Teen”) know this too, though their own ages render the subject matter a bit tired and sad, if not creepy. I guess “Early 30s Dream” and “Millennial Fever” don’t roll off the tongue too well.

But who am I to judge? I’m 27 and still wearing band shirts. In fact, I pretty much wear the same outfits I wore in high school, just pared down to feature fewer spiky things. Maybe I do this because I hate shopping, or because I’m clinging to the fact that the clothes still fit (thank you Lycra!), or maybe – and this is a far more embarrassing possibility – I still feel like a fifteen year old. In many ways I am perpetuating a similar state of arrested development as pop culture en masse…and I’m not even getting paid for it.

At 27 – an age already loaded with music mythology and tragedy – you can do one of three things. 1) Die horribly of a drug overdose or in a plane crash. 2) Cling to the idea of your bountiful 20s and become a (Wo)Man child. Or 3) Become an “Adult” with a capital “A.” Follow in the footsteps of my old co-worker, who despite being two years my junior, makes monthly Excel spreadsheets with his girlfriend to track and budget their combined spending. This is the same person who, when I got excited about the free poster stowed within a record I was opening, earnestly asked,

“Who puts posters on their walls anymore?”

ME.  That’s who.

Looking around my bedroom, I wouldn’t say it screams “27-year-old-educated-woman!” but rather, “15-year-old-pop-culture-junkie!” “Hey!” my room shouts. “Do you wanna listen to a record?! Look at my cool stuff!”

Some people my age want to buy houses, or couches, or couches for their houses. The well-adjusted long for crockpots and a nice dining room table. Looking around my bedroom I realize I haven’t paid for a single item of furniture in it. Desk: found on the street. Dresser: left by a former roommate. Bookshelf: free pile in the hall. The things I do spend money on – records, books, movies, writing and drawing supplies, food, booze – haven’t changed a hair since high school. My monetary ambition seems stunted, and my income is in a gradual decline. When people speak about being “an adult” I spin around. “Adult? Where? Do you see one?” I ask, only half-kidding.

Because a teenager’s finest skill is not taking responsibility for his or her actions, I blame this all on pop music. How am I supposed to adult when listening to Tom Waits sing “I Don’t Wanna Grow up,” or “Teen Lovers” by The Virgins? It’s not that I want to hang out with teenagers – that would be weird – I just don’t want to be shamed for my teenage taste, and my teenage disinterest in “feeling like an adult.” Because just like the teenager, the adult is a construct, too.

WOMAN OF INTEREST: Photographer Melissa Kobe + Poet Sarah Suzor

Humanity’s relationship to nature is a complicated one. Too often, people make the mistake of seeing themselves as masters, taming the earth inch by inch; in reality, the earth is quick to respond and fight back. Cracks in the sidewalk reveal grass gasping for breath, abandoned homes from the recession quickly fill with animals looking for shelter. The truth is we are symbiotic. Photographer Melissa Kobe and Poet Sarah Suzor explore our give and take relationship with earth in Am I Surrounding You?, a collaborative art book they debuted at Los Angeles’ Keystone Art Space Spring Open Studios last month.

To start, I’d love a little backstory on each of you. When did you decide to take up each medium as your profession?

Sarah: I was always writing. I went to college for journalism, moved to L.A. and worked for a local Los Angeles luxury magazine. After writing about $4,000 spoons for a year, I wanted to try my hand at a more creative (and rewarding) career. So, I started writing and publishing poetry. After that, I wanted to help everyone do the same with their writing (poetry, fiction, non-fiction), so I created my own company INK, LLC, and dove into helping my clients get their writing published.

Melissa: I’ve always been obsessed with imagery. I felt the enormity and the power of it as a kid sitting in Catholic mass, just looking at all the super dreary images of almost all white men. Being surrounded by those images just felt so heavy and unsettling. That was definitely the darker side. The lighter side was movies – seeing how people tell stories with pictures always resonated with me, I think, because I wasn’t the best at communicating with words.  I still don’t think I am, but I’ve gotten better as I get older. I really first picked up a camera in Junior High when I was the editor of the year book. From then I always did it as a hobby, but didn’t decide to try and do photography as a profession until I was an adult.

Melissa, can you tell us about the intention behind this photography series, before you brought Sarah into the fold?

Melissa: It’s so weird because the whole thing unfolded out of nothing.  I read in Westways about this beach in San Diego where these sharks laid their eggs. There’s a couple week period where they all hatch and you can go snorkeling with hundreds of sharks. I wanted to do it so bad! I rented a go-pro and went down there to find not one fucking shark. I was so bummed I didn’t even look at the pictures for like six months.  When I finally did, I thought they were really cool and started looking at them in a different perspective of hope, fear and disappointment… All things that didn’t really show themselves in the photos. Sarah and I had been talking for years about hooking up on a project together, so I reached out to her to see if she wanted to look at them and write something, interpreting them her own way. That’s where it all started. After it was over we both had such a great experience with the whole thing, we decided to keep it going.

How did the two of you meet?

Sarah: Melissa was working at the 50s Cafe on Santa Monica Blvd, and my ex boyfriend’s twin brother would frequent the Cafe all the time. The twins had a band; he asked Melissa to photograph their gigs. I met Melissa at Big Foot West, I believe, and we got along so well instantly. That was 12 years ago. I kept her, and the boy, he’s an ex.

Melissa: I think it was the Good Hurt.

Sarah: You’re right! Good Hurt.

Melissa: We hit it off instantly.

Sarah, have you ever worked in this order before? Drawing from source material, then crafting your poetry?

Sarah: I have worked with other writers. My last full-length collaboration, After the Fox, was written as email correspondence with my co-author, Travis Cebula. But I have never worked with anyone who uses a visual medium. It was great. I got to break a lot of my own “writerly rules.” 

How has the experience differed, working with a photographer vs working with another writer?

Sarah: Well, there’s not as much pressure on the words themselves. And there’s not enough room for the words to take all the credit. A huge, vague image might need more words, a very detailed image might need less words. It’s more like a symphony than a solo. I liked taking all that into consideration, and letting Melissa’s images speak for themselves, while still adding another dimension.

The title of the book is also the name of the first poem presented. What is the intention behind the title? Are we, as the readers, supposed to infer something immediately?  

Sarah: It’s taken from a line in the first piece, “Having Sprung, or Vernal.” I think that line came from the idea of the water images. Am I surrounding you, or are you surrounding me? When I wrote it, I was simply thinking about being engulfed by water, or being a foreign object in the sea (like a human, that, obviously, can’t survive there). However, I also think it translates to holding a book, reading a book or being mesmerized by an image. It’s kind of about participation. In life, even. Then again, there’s always 1400 different ways to take it.

Melissa: I loved that title because in my head, the whole “changing of the seasons” is such an important theme.  Not just for this collaboration, but in life.  I feel like there’s always a “life force” for lack of a better description, that connects all of it and all of us.  There’s something to be said for accepting what is, and “Am I surrounding you?” perfectly represented this this feeling of yin and yang.  We are not separate from nature, we are a part of it.  The following line is: “or are you surrounding me?” which further punctuates the point. I think that’s what’s been so cool about this collaboration… This different point of view that can be interpreted a hundred different ways depending on who’s reading/viewing it.

I was going to bring that up! The consistent theme of your ongoing collaboration is the changing of the seasons. Why did you choose that as the anchor of your series?

Melissa: I think it’s always been about the way it feels. Spring feels different than winter… Summer feels different from autumn.  We can try to go against nature, but it never works. This can be interpreted very literally, but also philosophically. Our life patterns mimic those patterns found in nature… I find it beautiful and comforting. I like those things that express a deeper internal dialogue or truth.  Those feelings that are instinctual that can’t always be described in words… Or when they are, it’s even more beautiful because you’re connecting something in a way that is comprehendible. It’s the most natural touchstone that everyone can relate to.

2016’s theme was the natural elements; Earth, Air, Fire and Water. What inspired that choice?

Sarah: I think, again, it is perhaps the accessibility of binary forces, and our natural inclination to understand elemental entities.

Melissa: It kind of just happened. We talked about wanting to do another collaboration and I brought up my desire to do something with the changing of the seasons.  That meant three more projects and you were like, well what goes with water… and you came up with the idea of doing all the other elements. The whole thing just unfolded so naturally.

Sarah: Also, for a writer, working with photos of the elements, I knew Melissa’s images would stand out and capture something dramatic.

Melissa: I’m constantly taking sky pictures and was stoked to have a reason to pull some of them from the depths of my computer and have a little light on them.  Especially with Sarah interpreting them in her bitchin’ way.

Sarah: Swoon, the sky!

In the earth section of the book, the photography reminded me of ancient cave drawings. Melissa, can you tell me a little bit about the process behind that part of the series?

Melissa: That’s awesome it reminded you of cave drawings! For the earth section, I made actual prints of images from the first two sections.  I distressed them like the earth would… left them out in the rain on a hiking trip to Escalante last fall, put rocks and sand over them and ran over them with my car… Took rocks and twigs and scraped them up.  They didn’t quite distress in a way I had hoped using all natural elements which was the initial goal, so I got some paint and pushed it along a bit.  I’d throw leaves and dirt on the prints and then let the wind catch the paint.

[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”]

An image from the Earth series.

You’re both currently in “production mode,” planning a new project that centers on the theme “The Feminine.” How did you narrow your focus to that subject?

Sarah: We just get started and see where it goes! But what will be different here is I will be talking to the photography models/muses and hopefully incorporating their story and their dialog into the writing. So, in some ways, it will be up to the muses, which is thrilling for me as the writer. The words will literally and figuratively take the shape of the muse.

Models are needed for this next project, which will showcase a variety of women in various states of nudity. What would you say to a woman who’s interested in participating… but a little nervous about the nudity?

Sarah: I would say Melissa will make anyone feel comfortable and gorgeous.

Melissa: I understand that nudity is scary. I’m scared to shoot nudes! It’s all love, and it’s not about just them… It’s about all of us and we’re doing this together.

Sarah: One idea behind the book is also more about the beauty of the natural feminine form than it is about the nudity.

Melissa: We don’t know where this will take us, but that’s why we’re doing it. We want to explore a topic that meaningful to the both of us. The nudity is just a physical expression of stripping down. I see and feel the beauty in people as they are. [/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”][It’s] coming from a place of love and acceptance, so hopefully that helps with some of the nerves.

What do you hope readers will take away from ‘Am I surrounding you’?

Melissa: I just hope what we produced makes people think or feel something.

Sarah: I hope they take away something they can relate to. I hope they open that book, and close it feeling like they have something to talk about, share, and question. I hope they emote.

Am I Surrounding You? is now available for purchase at www.sarahandmelissa.com.[/fusion_builder_column][/fusion_builder_row][/fusion_builder_container]

PLAYING DETROIT: Britney Stoney Holds Tight with “Grip”

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photo by Akhil Sesh

Singer/songwriter and soul songstress Britney Stoney reemerged last week with her first new track (and video) since 2015’s acclaimed Native EP. This time around, Stoney shares a newfound intimate inflection with “Grip,” an unofficial sad-girl prom anthem.

“Grip” masterfully and quietly provides an echo of personal cinema. Sure, it’s a pop song – one that could easily soundtrack a Hannah-seeking-Adam montage on the recently deceased Girls. But Stoney flips the script and fastens a flimsy, sparkly bandaid to a heart-attack with grace and vulnerability. Her voice, breathy with delicate invitation, is undeniably enchanting against the fluttering choral playground and a glitter of synths fit for Johnny Jewel.

Visually, “Grip” finds Stoney tangled in a candy-colored pinhole dreamworld created by renowned visual artist Dessislava. A dizzying camouflage, Stoney spends the video entirely alone, rocking Eighties formal wear and Nineties-era Brandy box braids from scene to scene. Like a late night “WYD” text, its tender-hearted pop-seduced torment begs to be set free and longs for intimacy all at once. Relatable, danceable and totally love-sick, “Grip” holds tight and won’t let go.

Dream on with Britney Stoney’s magical trip down Heartbreak Lane below:

[/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”]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2QlCV_yfBtM&feature=youtu.be[/fusion_builder_column][/fusion_builder_row][/fusion_builder_container]

PLAYING BLOOMINGTON: A Lo-Fi Showdown at King Dough

Located on the north end of the city square, King Dough is Bloomington’s bourgie-hipster pizza spot, the type of place that offers a pizza topped with grapes, bleu cheese, and honey (which I highly recommend), alongside charcuterie and local craft beer. Drawing from an industrial aesthetic and open kitchen concept, King Dough has a large main room and a much smaller bar tucked away at the back of the restaurant. It was in the back room where I saw Lindsy, Evening Glow, Junk Bomb and High Fiber perform last Thursday.

Opening the evening’s set was the psychedelic lo-fi local group Lindsy, comprised of Tommy Muldowney (bass and vocals), Patrick Maloney (guitar and vocals), Brett Hoffman (drums), and Nina Pitchkites (keys and vocals). The band’s shoegaze-inspired performance entailed airy melodies, spaced-out pedal affects, and multi-layered instrumental textures delivered in a mood that was technically cerebral yet casually distant. Being one of the two local bands hosting the event, Lindsy set an informal tone for the night. After finishing their second song, guitarist Patrick Maloney observed, “Well, that went about as poorly as it could have ”- not that anyone either noticed or cared about whether or not that was true. Still a relatively new group, “Nod Head” is the only single Lindsy has released thus far, via Soundcloud.

Chicago-based art rock/dream pop four-piece Evening Glow was a welcome last-minute add-on to the event. Their sound was less stylized than Lindsy, so band members Aaron Cada, Vincent Tieri, River Snyder and Aidan Cada had more freedom to drift in and out of related sounds, namely twee pop, emo, and pop punk. A lo-fi gloss glued the set together, operating as the cohesive thread running throughout their performance. Although they have not been around for long, the band has put out two full albums since September: Letters From Home and Beneath Faded Stars. Their newest single, “Blush,” arrived back in February.

Next on the set list was Junk Bomb, a four-piece punk band based out of Little Rock, Arkansas. Junk Bomb pushed the energy and noise levels past the venue’s breaking point. The band’s already aggressive distortion-heavy guitar riffs and the frontwoman’s frenzied vocal act and stage presence were overshadowed by a drum performance that was confrontationally loud – my ears are still ringing as I write this. While it is great to watch lightning-fast punk drumming done well (especially as a beginner drummer myself), the drums were too loud for the tiny room that they were being played in. They washed out and distracted from the rest of what was happening in the act; it’s easier to get a sense of what Junk Bomb is about by listening to the tour demo available on Bandcamp.

 

My ears were in pain after Junk Bomb’s performance, but luckily for me High Fiber reintroduced the more chilled-out psychedelic lo-fi aesthetic of the earlier acts. Local band members Tommy Muldowney (vox/guitar), Cesar Escarmilla (guitar/synth), Andy Laszio (bass), Alex Rigsbee (keys/guitar), and Ben Archer (drums) describe their sound as “psych pop lo-fi disembodied head sexplosion,” delivering it via their latest LP Corner In, Corner Out. There was considerable overlap in sound between High Fiber and Lindsy, which is understandable as both bands featured Tommy Muldowney on his various instruments.

High Fiber maintained a relaxed repartee with the crowd, which had already significantly thinned out at this point in the show (to be fair, it was about 1:15 am at this point, over two hours past the event’s advertised runtime). Adding to the informality of the performance, there were a series of disruptions throughout the event, including a visit from the cops, who arrived at the show in response to a noise complaint. Although the show kept this grad student out past her bedtime, I thoroughly enjoyed the variety of bands that were featured at this event. I even picked up a few tips about attending future shows at King Dough. For one, I will make sure to bring earplugs with me next time.