Album Reviews

SAULT’s Untitled siblings came out three months apart in the midst of a volatile time in the US. It turned out that the pandemic had only just begun for us when the murder of George Floyd spread like wildfire, flanked by recent stories of the murders of Breonna Taylor and Ahmaud Arbery. Just a few weeks later, on Juneteenth, the mysterious UK group SAULT released Untitled (Black Is). To say that the date was a coincidence would be to wilfully ignore the fact that violence towards people of color is chronic, yet the 20-track album is still a marvel. It is simultaneously grounding and uplifting, despondent and hopeful, wielding the power of unification in order to usher in revolution. 

The September record called Untitled (Rise) is a dynamic, funky counter-balance to the percussive, old-school soul featured on its predecessor. Where (Rise) features bold instrumentation including lush strings and textured synths, (Black Is) keeps it mainly acoustic, built upon a diverse pageant of drums, echoing vocals, and hidden basslines. There are cuts, usually of vocals, that give the record depth beyond the mix—and when several voices join together, it is enrapturing. Even while listening in solitude, you are not alone. 

SAULT · Bow Feat Michael Kiwanuka

The late-summer LP’s title was a running motif through (Black Is) as well, especially on “Miracle,” a doo-wop skit that winds down in a round of, “No matter how high/I will rise/We will rise.” That said, the albums each feature separate messages: the first to heal and embolden, and the second to organize and fight. Across several tracks, and not just the ones that explicitly feature its namesake phrase, (Black Is) offers a portrait of Black and brown experience. 

“Black is ‘there’s still meat on that bone, lil girl!’” – “Out the Lies”

“We all know Black is beautiful…Black is excellent too” – “Black Is”

“We have walked in silence, we have expressed our voices, people have died. … Nobody listened, nobody cared. This generation cares.” –  “This Generation” feat. Laurette Josiah

(Black Is) is a resistance opus: it acknowledges perseverance, tears down institutions, and uplifts participants in the revolution. Specifically, this is for people of color—white people, we cannot point to this album and celebrate; this is a reminder that our privilege must be redirected for the reasons enumerated therein. We can be the force to affect change in real ways but only with the careful consideration of the experiences of people of color. 

SAULT | order Untitled (Black Is) | order Untitled (Rise) | website | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram | YouTube | Soundcloud | Bandcamp

Producers often use the term “pop” loosely, and Ian Chang is no different. The drummer extraordinaire, who is a mainstay of Son Lux and Landlady and has collaborated with many other musicians, works with software called Sensory Percussion which allows him to embed myriad sounds onto simple (or complex!) drum hits. The effects he creates feel less out-of-place than a typical experimental record created with meticulous chops and samples, though fans of the mainstream would argue that it’s not pop. Yet that argument misses the point entirely. Chang’s first full-length album, 属 Belonging is a tapestry of earworms that all work innately together, honoring its title through experimentation and collaboration. 

The intricate process to create this record and its personal significance to Chang give 属 Belonging an emotional clarity. Though he didn’t have the title when he began writing and recording, the namesake theme runs heavily throughout. Listen for the disparate elements, including clicks and wails alongside more typical industrial effects, and you will realize that there is a distinct path through the noise. “Teem” is a conversation between bacteria, flitting about until they reach the cyborg with a bottle of disinfectant halfway through, warping their world forever. Melodies come from all directions on “Food Court,” supported by a machine’s heaves and sighs. Even “舞狮 Lion Dance” marches to its own beat, allowing one of the album’s most colorful melodies to shine. 

Having grown up between Hong Kong and the US, Chang is intimately familiar with a split identity. And he added another fracture when he moved to Dallas, interrupting his own sense of “belonging” to NYC, where he had lived for 10 years. Through his solo work, he has been able to hand onto, if not bolster, his Chinese roots; across both of his record, several tracks (and one album!) are titled using Chinese characters with English counterparts—though some translations are more accurate than others. “雀舌 Bird's Tongue” refers to a tea Chang drank while making that track but “醉罗汉” is more accurately translated as “Drunken Arhat [enlightened buddhist]”; “Drunken Fist” simply worked best as the English title. 

Ian Chang · 舞狮 Lion Dance

When reaching out to collaborators, Chang told sunhouse, “I wanted to have the track fully formed before sending it to people and then see how they responded to it.” Then, each collaborator took what he had made and infused with it their own spirit of belonging. Kiah Victoria is featured on “Comfort,” where she sings, “I feel so in between, I want to go far from here but now you’re standing right here.” KAZU of Blonde Redhead makes a promise to always live honestly on “Audacious,” and even the delicate oh-oh-ohs cooed by Hanna Benn on “雀舌 Bird's Tongue” bring us closer to her. 

Regardless of your affection for the left-field, you will walk away from 属 Belonging with an attachment. If not to the sounds therein, then to the folks who made it and the folks who love it and even to those who have simply heard it, with no judgment passed. It may be small, but it is a shared experience between us, and my bet is that when we start digging, we’ll find a whole lot more in common. 

Ian Chang | SnG coverage | order 属 Belonging | website | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram | YouTube | Soundcloud | Bandcamp

Glimmers is a special record that hits each note exactly, both musically and emotionally. In creating this record, Unstabile (say: un-stuh-beel), a native of Western Massachusetts, told Vanyaland, “I was more shaped by absence”: an absence of sunlight, sound, and community, they further specified. Glimmers is a response to that absence, containing all the sorrowful joy and joyful sorrow of a lonesome life. (Released on March 27th, it was painfully apt.) The eight-track EP describes the introspective time that we spend with ourselves, even—or especially—when we don’t want to.

Solitude is a powerful force, not unlike the fickle nature of water. A tsunami could raze our psyche in an instant, or a trickle may form scars in our memories from subtle erosion over time. Gentle or fierce, fast or slow, it doesn’t matter—damage is done all the same. So when Unstabile describes Glimmers as a record created as they “emerged from the sorrow with sun on my face,” it is a triumph. One that likely resonates personally just as much as it will inspire any listener who has recently felt more alone than ever before. Its title comes from the spoken word “Interlude,” which begins as a quiet cacophony, describing distractions as if the entire track were one. The distant voice calls upon “glimmers of intention in a stream of incessant thoughts/glimmers of quiet” before balancing those words with silence. 

“don't rush me cause I've been deceived,” Unstabile declares in “I Am (Before I Think),” the second track on the spring LP. The track challenges the Descartes mantra that existence is proven by our consciousness. The musician argues that it takes a lifetime of discovery to truly know one’s self. This battle is fought over and over again, and it can create loss that is sometimes easier to ignore than to continue to confront—case in point, a few lines later, they reveal, “trying to figure it out just makes me stall.” 

Luckily, there’s no pressure to have any specific answers. Life is but a journey, and Unstabile is perpetually on their way. Ironically, that tune on the record defies itself, preferring stillness: “when I feel like I’m on my way/being right here feels ok.” Enticing synthesizer effects warp around soft guitar and vocal melodies for a cozy, dreamy experience. As they explained to Allston Pudding, there is no real destination: 

“I’m not even thinking of a distinct journey so much as just being. I’m talking to myself, I’m only freaking out about everything when I think I’m stuck, or worried about stagnancy. I’m really distracted and feel like life is not a linear thing going in some sort of direction. I’m learning how to center myself, become more ritualistic, caring and self-caring.” 

Unstabile · I Am (Before I Think)

There is also a vague suggestion of the queer experience hidden in many of these tracks as well. Khuê recently released a delightful track called “Disappear” about a relationship that only came to be understood years later. Unstabile includes lyrics in “Lost Touch” and “Closet” about a similar phenomenon, the former coming off as a lofi hymn while the latter is a somber dirge. And of course the identity juggling in “I Am” is something every queer person can relate to. All symptoms of growing up surrounded by heteronormative and cisgender perspectives. 

Despite the seemingly precise purpose behind each track, Unstabile prefers to bang it out quickly. “I love to do things faster, it feels the nicest. It’s easy to detach from it, not think of it as your own,” they told Allston Pudding. And that philosophy had to have been at least part of the reason they released a second LP in 2020, Moss Well, which was made in quarantine just after the release of Glimmers. An imposed lockdown may have altered the idea of solo recording, but the therapeutic aspect of music remains just as potent. So here’s hoping Unstabile never slows down. 

Unstabile | SnG coverage | order Glimmers | Twitter | Instagram | Soundcloud | Bandcamp

Prior to last year, I was only ever tangentially familiar with No Joy. I was vague with Wait To Pleasure and slightly more accustomed to “Califone,” and so I came to know them as a general ‘rock’ band. Imagine my surprise when I read a few reviews of Motherhood that classified the band as shoegaze. (I take my quarantine drama where I can.) Granted, most of the articles discuss how they, or more accurately she—Jasamine White-Gluz is now No Joy’s sole member—warps genre lines to her advantage, s omy incredulity wasn't completely unwarranted; I would argue that Motherhood contains a fiery energy that defies the very idea of shoegaze. This more-than-rock record not only experiments with structure where possible, it also gives an unflinching take on the crooked joys of its namesake. 

Starting with their sophomore album, No Joy has consistently collaborated with Costa Rican artist Jorge Elbrecht as producer; White-Gluz has since declared Elbrecht her “fave artist ever” in a recommendation on Bandcamp. His newest album, Presentable Corpse 002, exists in a completely different sphere and emphasizes his fastidiousness with each sonic texture. (And how familiar were his own recommendations on Bandcamp! Among them: Winter and Vinyl Williams.) Ultimately, Elbrecht is the other major influence on No Joy’s sound alongside White-Gluz, and what they created on Motherhood is an unexpected mix of influences from nu-metal to britpop. 

Beginning with the tense stadium-rock groove on “Birthmark,” there is not a single song on this album that doesn’t have a ‘moment’—or several. Take in the glory of the 808s on “Ageless” or the death-metal screech on “Dream Rats” that comes from White-Gluz’s sister Alissa, lead vocalist of the more expressly metal group, Arch Enemy. March to the pitter-pattering beat on “Primal Curse” or get swept into the ominously optimistic atmosphere of “Happy Bleeding.” Pretend you’re in a movie set in the early ‘90s and embrace the bass on “Nothing Will Hurt” as it goes absolutely mental.

No Joy · Dream Rats (feat. Alissa White-Gluz)

The true masterpiece of the record is “Four.” White-Gluz said as much in a statement when the single dropped; more precisely, she called it “perhaps my favorite No Joy song ever written." And for good reason—it warms up like “O Green World” by Gorillaz, which is to say that each element has its own introduction before yanking the tablecloth away from the dinner table. The melody that follows is accompanied by a charming coo from a baby, distancing itself from the distraught figure on the single artwork. Then the guitars come through for good measure, bringing us back to No Joy’s bread and butter. 

While I wasn’t able to study the full set of lyrics before writing this, there is little about the harsh reality of this record that is lost on its audience. Being a mom, or a parent in general, is a lot of pressure and work. On the surface, anything capable of producing such horror and anxiety should throw into question the idea of unconditional love, yet instead, it becomes its proof. The catharsis across Motherhood comes in waves, giving space for tough moments so that the easy ones do more than allow one to rest—they heal. 

No Joy | SnG coverage | order Motherhood | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram | Soundcloud | Bandcamp

Prior to his 2019 album, The Same But By Different Means, Yves Jarvis was not used to having deadlines. It was only when he signed with ANTI- that he suddenly had stakeholders in his creative process. Not that they slowed him down; he didn’t compromise on anything and completed the project on his schedule. It stands out as a wonderful record on its own, and considering his 2020 effort, Sundry Rock Song Stock, it was an essential step to refining his fertile creativity. 

The artist also known as Jean-Sebastien Yves Audet is the epitome of DIY, yet his music stands apart from the raw guitar genre you might be thinking of. In fact, describe it how you will—Pitchfork called Sundry “psych-pop” and Bandcamp Daily called The Same “experimental, folky R&B”—but there is no label for music like this. It’s not about how it sounds as much as how it feels. 

And the feel on Sundry is evergreen—in saturation and spirit. Audet’s command of the synthesizer meshes beautifully with his skill as a folk singer/songwriter. I hear Sufjan Stevens in the shadows of Jarvis’ whispers and Fleet Foxes in the strategically layered vocals (an all-Yves choir). His noodling melodies on the acoustic guitar are calming, and each transition to and from the electronic accents is filled with purpose. But perhaps his greatest talent lies in his lyricism; Audet is a natural poet. He has little concern for rhyme, prioritizing rhythm over all else. 

I am frequently tempted to toss any literal meaning from Jarvis’ discography, but then I always end up stumbling upon nuggets of clarity that catch my breath. For starters, how hopeless the final stanza of “Victim” is! “I’m a vitriolic mass of dynamite/Just bound to ignite.” The previous track, “Emerald,” gleams, consisting of 24 auspicious, gilded syllables that defy gravity and time. “Emblem,” the shortest tune (yet wordier than nearly half of the others) is in fact a curse, instructing one to “seek heresy” and “tread recklessly.” And then there’s the eat-the-rich anthem “For Props”; its final line is a psalm that eviscerates the position of the powerful: 

“Your earned fortune Makes you depraved Can’t empathize Or Reciprocate

I’m sure your hearts in the right place

A fork in all due inertia”

There is no way to truly know Sundry Rock Song Stock without spending time with it. I’ve attempted to describe it in the ways that it has impacted me but that is an impossible task. Each time I return to it, a new facet emerges, each refracting its meaning in a completely new way. 

Yves Jarvis | order Sundry Rock Song Stock | website | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram | YouTube | Soundcloud | Bandcamp

Yves Jarvis · Emerald

It’s hard to describe, but go with me on this: imagine someone beat-box imitating the sound an old record player makes when it gets to the end but doesn’t stop spinning. That is the first glorious sound on "Nothing’s Impossible,” the opening track of Superstar, the latest album by crimson hero Caroline Rose. It is wound tightly around its titular concept. It’s also an enormous amount of fun. 

Our starlet protagonist is a heightened version of Rose herself, who has grown considerably since her previous LP, LONER. On that effort, she proved herself to be a deft songwriter, executing dense, mostly silly stories on each track. And their variety in style and sound made it a collection that, despite its haphazard narrative, inspired repeat listens from front to back. 

Maintaining that grinning enthusiasm, Rose made sure that Superstar had a clear emotional throughline. She told Atwood Mag, “I gave it a lot of thought – I had a whiteboard with all the songs laid out. I was like ‘This is what I need to feel, this is how it needs to feel on this track, during this track…’” Not to mention the lyrical motifs that sneak up on you like a Shyamalan twist. 

LA gets pigeonholed as the place where people go to chase their dreams, which makes it perfect fodder for this record. Rose is based in New York, the other concrete jungle where dreams are made, but the old glamour of Hollywood overcomes her alter-ego; “I'm moving to LA, I'll weekend in Paris,” she declares on “Got To Go My Own Way.” Her destiny called from the Chateau Marmont, and then she’s leaving Paris behind for a beach in Southern France on “Pipe Dreams.” 

carolinerosemuzak · Got to Go My Own Way

Of course the journey on Superstar is more than just physical. Rose arranged the album like a Shakespearian tragedy, give or take an act, where each few songs mark the next (psychological) stop on the way to stardom. And in every chapter, there is a considerable lack of chill: there’s “Freak Like Me” for obvious reasons; “Command Z” spirals in on itself, quite literally; and “Do You Think We’ll Last Forever?” even features an homage to “Bad Romance” (unintentionally? I saw that "Applause” shirt in the “Feel the Way I Want” video, so I suspect we have a little monster in our midst). 

Yet, among all the silliness, there is such heart. The production breathes like a humble analog recording, embellished only on the edges in a similar style to the White Stripes or Arcade Fire. That leaves the spotlight open to shine directly on Rose and her entrancing melodies or subtle wisdom; “I Took a Ride,” the album’s closer, is the best of both worlds. 

Visually represented by the character on the cover, our protagonist is at the end of the line, having become entirely disillusioned by fame. She has a keen determination to win back her lover, not unlike the buzzing mosquito rustling through some cellophane, but lest we forget where our greatest strength lies: “Some men might think that/A woman is weak because she cries/But nothing is stronger than a lover's lonely tear.” 

Caroline Rose | SnG coverage | order Superstar | website | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram | Soundcloud | Bandcamp

Rory Ferreira is a shark. His bars are vicious and majestic, and as an artist he is never stagnant. I could spend 1,000 words describing all the past and current projects that Ferreira has undertaken. Instead, let’s just agree that the breadth of his work expands like the universe—all-encompassing, yet still uncovering new territory on every release. 

His 2020 release came in mid-March, or just around the time the US began to implode with outbreaks of COVID-19 and the surrounding panic that a pandemic may bring. The record wasn’t prescient to the global catastrophe except when considering the sudden need for great music to keep us going. 

Purple Moonlight Pages is the first LP since R.A.P. Ferreira hung up his old moniker, milo. He’s still the same great MC, spitting satisfying rhymes across these 18 tracks co-produced by The Jefferson Park Boys and featuring just two guests named Mike. References from Adventure Time to The Wire to Hamlet are easter eggs for listeners to comb gleefully through, not to mention how frequently he builds upon his own folklore. 

After introducing himself and the PMP cast of players, “GREEN” kicks off the album in earnest. The title and emerald motif is a signal of life, invoked “as we tend to grow/Tend to matters of hope, tend to be tender.” The sparse melody on “U.D.I.G.” is one of the most iconic from the effort, along with the dreamy fog of “AN IDEA IS A WORK OF ART,” and “LEAVING HELL,” where Ferreira, braced by a reliable horn, sings a measure, not unlike MF Doom did on “That’s That.” 

R.A.P. Ferreira · GREENS

“Doldrums” left a permanent mark with its late stanza asking if we can find humanity, comprised of difficulties, jubilee, revelry, freedom, and spirit. These are universal questions that have the power to reflect one’s own imperfections and fallacies. “Just kick back and inherit the world…”

In the short story “I Stand Here Ironing,” the routine of the titular chore encourages the narrator’s mind to wander. It is a rich story, and I’m sure my tenth grade English teacher would roast me for only ever invoking it as an example of the psychological power of menial work. Yet it becomes relevant again on “Laundry,” where Ferreira floats through his house, collecting dirty clothes and remarking on so much more in the process. 

How frequently are we simply wading through our experiences? It takes trauma to snap us out of the daze, such as when George Floyd was murdered and protests flared up through our broken nation. Then interest fades. Or we cling to the names that we insist we respect, but monetizing Breonna Taylor’s name, face, and death is beyond disrespectful. Ferreira included lyrics about being "a tagline on a bodybag" in reference to his late friend, Rob Espinosa, but the sentiment is too often relevant. It leads us to numbness then complacency, then we wait for the next trauma.

This entire album reminds me that we don’t have to wait for trauma to keep us arm in arm. This is not an album about hope any more than the average milo output, but the small hints on PMP fuel my love for it. After all, the world isn’t going to be the same as what it was like when this was being recorded, which stretched back to January 2018 at the oldest track. No, this was an unintentional transition and one that makes me a little less anxious about what the future may hold. 

R.A.P. Ferreira | order Purple Moonlight Pages | website | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram | Soundcloud | Bandcamp

The Jefferson Park Boys | Bandcamp

It has been almost exactly a year since Tupper Werewolf released an EP packed to the brim with intrigue. The Glaswegian artist also known as Gordon Barr is comfortable in great halls of synthesizers, each one seemingly more festive than the last. There is color everywhere, and not only in a figurative sense; browsing all of his discography on Bandcamp, each piece of art incorporates no fewer than four colors. The brightest of the bunch being Flavour Country. 

With a groan and a brief moment of industrial awakening, “Pianohammer” comes to life, with a tender melody that drops in between the verses on the keyboard. Eventually a crackling voice joins the party, foreshadowing the spoken word vocal content of the lead single from the release, “Mouths.” This post-punk techno ballad was written in response to the UK government’s refusal to negotiate for the Erasmus program, which had helped bring friends of Barr’s over from France. It mourns a friendship and maintains a steady melody which, as he revealed to The Skinny, “started life as a digital replication of an adungu (a Ugandan harp).” 

Determination is a key component of Flavour Country, guided largely by consistent four-on-the-floor beats but also by the stories in “Mouths” and perhaps even moreso in “All Sorts” and “You Can Do It.” The latter wears its emotion on its sleeve, but, contrary to his approach on the previous track, “All Sorts” maintains a façade of unease, lightened incrementally by the hallmark of the EP: bright, winding paths of bubbling synth. 

Tupper Werewolf | order Flavour Country | Facebook | Twitter | YouTube | Soundcloud | Bandcamp

Originally appeared on the 405, view archived article here. 

When you hear Iconique’s new release, you will want to stand and applaud. The Los Angeles trio honors the original disco divas, embodying a genre that has been pulled and stretched in many directions recently. Iconique is known for putting on unforgettable live shows with the raw energy of the ‘70s and ‘80s, and much of that enthusiasm carries into their studio recordings; Ovation, the new EP, proves they have even more ground to cover in the genre. 

Read more. 

Iconique | website | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram | YouTube | Soundcloud

Photo by Bryan C. Parker

Originally appeared on Grimy Goods. 

“Art is not truth. Art is a lie that makes us realize truth,” Pablo Picasso told The Arts reporter Marius de Zayas in 1923. More recently, in the spring of 2018, Loma revealed their own untruth at the Bootleg as part of a tour for their eponymous debut album. Even more lies await on their sophomore record, Don’t Shy Away—each one more illuminating than the last. Listen to Don’t Shy Away today and pick up a yellow vinyl copy on Sub Pop.

Though Cross provides the main voice, all three members of Loma contribute lyrics to a hazy tale that stretches across the record’s 11 songs. Deep brass is omnipresent and creates an unsettling atmosphere, which becomes more overwhelming as the album progresses.

“Ocotillo” is one of the more upbeat numbers toward the start, curling notes toward the heavens while acknowledging life is in “beautiful disarray.” Other joyous moments occur on “Half Silences” and “Breaking Waves Like a Stone,” two tracks that find comfort with a higher tempo.

Read more. 

Loma | buy Don’t Shy Away | website | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram | YouTube | Soundcloud | Bandcamp

The original interview appears on Grimy Goods. The introduction is reprinted in part below. The conversation that follows is a continuation of that article. 

After establishing her own rhythms, Pander Sera is ready to shake everything up again. Last spring, the Los Angeles noise artist, also known as Swan, released Bothy, a raucous explosion of percussion and wit. The sound of that record was unified and relentless—ambitious enough to leave a distinct mark, though not quite the breadth of musicality that Pander Sera is capable of. On Errant, she rights the ship by sinking it.

Read the original interview. Continue reading for more. 

Pander Sera | buy Errant | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram | YouTube | Soundcloud | Bandcamp

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Did you make the art for this record? Tell me about it.

SWAN: Yes! ... I started ashing in my painting and smearing it around. ...

That’s ash?!?!

SWAN: Yeah, it’s like tobacco and ash and a very small amount of brown and black paint splattered against it. And there’s a bit of my hair in there too.

That’s so cool. I guess I assumed it was black paint. Have you put white paint over it or did you scratch out the eyes and mouth? The exposed canvas at the top also feels like a nod to Bothy’s corrugated cardboard texture.

SWAN: The eyes and mouth were white paint I believe. Yeah, I’m looking at it right now. They are three-dimensionally protruding from the canvas so yeah I think it’s white paint. As for the unfinished corners, I was in a rush to try to expressively finish [the painting], but I really like that you can see the corners of the canvas and…everything seems to have some sort of inherent connection. Even if I didn’t realize it at the time, it connects with a lot of the songs and the feel of that album. I very much like drawing awareness to the medium. Which is a funny cuz some critic could look at it and say it’s unfinished or it’s amateur. But not if it was intentional! But yeah in this case, I can assure you, it’s not an excuse.

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You have described Errant as “an album about veering from a course.” Are you referencing a specific course that you have veered from?

SWAN: Several specific ones! ... Bothy had an intention from the get-go. We had been building a studio downtown and I suddenly found myself with access to these more professional resources. So we thought, “let’s make a pop album! Let’s do it every step of the way the way that a pop album would be produced and released.” To me, it became this sort of performance art that only I was aware of after awhile because the process ended up taking years. [laughs] I would not recommend such a foolhardy endeavor without better proper planning and things like that. 

I was so inundated by the sound of Bothy that I wanted to do a completely different thing. I think “Con Past Young” was one of the first songs that came to fruition in that way. It came into my head and I thought OK, I want to try to see what I can do with this instrument that is so ubiquitous. I don’t necessarily think I do anything impressive with the guitar on the album but I really enjoyed using it as a texture and as like a new paintbrush. Shoot I’ve gone off course. I’ve erred! [laughs] 

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[about the flow and structure of Errant]

SWAN: There’s this very intense early early childhood memory I have of the first time I was introduced to a narrative structure that seemed to have no end, like an infinite story. It terrified me. I read Wind in the Willows before I would go to sleep and all of these beautiful stories intertwined, but it didn’t really seem to have a beginning, middle, and end. It was just this continuous cycle and that really intrigued me. After I got over the initial existential dread of there being no form, I mean, look at me now: as an adult who does not abide by binaries and loves noise music and so forth. I really enjoyed the freedom of that fluidity of this infinite story being told, and you can find that in a lot of old errant stories. They’re called knight-errant like old King Arthur type shit. That’s all well and good, the Lancelot stuff, but I prefer different forms of those legends. 

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You describe how Bothy had this particular sound, which differed from what you were doing before that record. So in a way do you think that on Errant you’ve returned back to what you were doing in the pre-Bothy era?

SWAN: In some ways yes and some ways no. ... [Yes] in the sense that this was an album that came from more personal wanderings and meanderings. It is a return to when I was living in Santa Cruz and I would just record some bird in the forest and go back and suddenly I’d have a trip hop beat. Day to day, and I believe I’m not the only one who experiences this: you just wake up almost a different person. My interests are so varied in terms of the kind of art that I want to make that sometimes that can be paralyzing, you can get frozen and go, oh shoot there’s too many options, I’m drowning in options! But if you can sit down and say, ok I woke up with this song stuck in my head today that I’ve been working on so I’ll work on that. 

I can relate to the art paralysis. I like to paint, I’m trying to learn how to be a better photographer, I like to write (though that is now its own burden), and I’m trying to learn the drums. But then I worry that I’m spreading myself too thin, and why am I pursuing any of them? But I also just enjoy it whenever I can. 

SWAN: It’s unfortunate in a lot of ways because, in the creative field, you’re almost expected to be able to do it all. Or to at least produce it all. If you cant make your own art then you can find someone who can do art for you and you better be able to pay them. Oh, also! I’m really excited that you’re learning to play the drums! It’s a very healthy, cathartic activity. 

Yes, the catharsis has been great! Just smacking shit, it’s so fun. 

SWAN: Yeah! And then eventually learning oh, if I smack it a little softer then I can make a different sound. 

Yeah, well, I have an electric set and I think there’s a short in one of the cables. But it’s almost its own fun challenge. Because when you learn something some way, then when you hear it a different way, it’s uncharted territory. 

SWAN: Like a happy accident? 

Yes, exactly. When something different happens it’s not a bad thing. I’m trying not to think of it as wrong as much as it’s just not the way that it always is. 

SWAN: Exactly! What you just described, that’s the theme of Errant. [laughs] Or at least one of the arms of the tree of Errant. 

Photo Credit: Bao Ngo

Originally appeared on Grimy Goods. 

The phrase ‘representation matters’ has gained popularity of late, a rallying cry that accompanies demands that Hollywood diversify casting. Though the symptoms are different, an issue of representation persists today in the music industry as well. The ratio of white executives to executives of color at the most powerful companies is troublingly high, but even setting that aside, the bands given the biggest and best opportunities are also overwhelmingly white. And what’s more, representation among fellow fans can be just as important as any of the above—after all, the fans don’t commiserate with the band itself or the executive who greenlit the project upon the release of a new album or at a live concert. Instead, fans are a community of their own, and the sense of belonging can be just as significant as elsewhere.

What must it be like, then, when someone feels out of place among an audience brought together by love for the same music? Bartees Strange is a lifelong fan of indie rock mainstay The National, but noticed that he was one of very few Black folks in attendance at one of the band’s concerts in DC in 2019. Providing more disappointment than shock, Strange set out to make his own mark on the indie rock scene—specifically by re-imagining songs by The National.

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Bartees Strange | buy Say Goodbye to Pretty Boy | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram | YouTube | Soundcloud | Bandcamp

“Mithras” Music Video Reveals a Morsel of the Technicolor Universe on Vinyl Williams’ Azure LP

Originally appeared on Grimy Goods. 

After the last couple weeks, I’m about ready to jettison off this planet. The successful SpaceX launch certainly makes the idea tempting. If you are similarly seeking an escape, look out for Azure, the brand new record from Vinyl Williams out now. The local psych artist, né Lionel Williams, has created not just one but 11 new worlds on the new LP—one for each track. He recently revealed the cunning space rock tune “Mithras” alongside a fittingly mystical music video that guides us further from reality.

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Vinyl Williams | buy Azure | website | Twitter | Instagram | YouTube | Soundcloud | Bandcamp

Originally appeared on Grimy Goods. 

For anyone who was concerned that the stay-at-home order would dampen the sound of summer, worry no more. The Brazil-born, LA-based musician Das Kope has been steadily releasing sunny shoegaze singles since 2018; his contributions on guitar alone are entrancing. Now we finally see the release of his debut full-length album, Where I Live, a fuzzy fantasy experienced from afar.

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Das Kope | buy Where I Live | website | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram | YouTube | Soundcloud | Bandcamp

Originally appeared on Grimy Goods. 

LA’s frogi is filled with contrasts but not contradictions. The songwriter and producer recently released a bedroom pop EP titled Introvert. It is restrained and quiet, tied together with a strong motif of love, though probably not the love you’re thinking of. Her stories are nuanced and sensitive, but that is not what defines her. She is a formidable artist, with a clear vision for where she wants to go and a strong grip on how to get there.

frogi can name the exact inspiration for her new music project: the 2016 dark comedy, Swiss Army Man. Its stars, Paul Dano and Daniel Radcliffe both contribute to the soundtrack, but they don’t necessarily ‘sing’—their vocals are pitched and looped and cut to create an ecosystem of sounds, which the composers (Manchester Orchestra’s Andy Hull and Robert McDowell) arrange to fit the emotional arc of the film. This process opened frogi’s world to new possibilities. 

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frogi | Introvert EP | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram | YouTube | Soundcloud

Photo by Chase Leonard 

Originally appeared on LADYGUNN. 

The new EP from Mara Connor titled No Fun was a long time coming; having been released on April 3 while we are all in self-quarantine, this is starting to feel like the basis of a joke, but in actuality, it’s a much more thoughtful tale. The LA-native is an evocative songwriter with a particular vision, one that comes through not only in song, but across her music videos as well. Each track on No Fun, and even the other stray tunes that don’t appear on the EP, adds to a warm Americana tapestry meant for sitting ‘round an autumn campfire.

LADYGUNN connected with Connor via email to learn more about her new music and how she is staying occupied in the midst of self-isolation. The artist sets the record straight about the recurring themes of heartbreak and strength, and most importantly about how life is just plain complicated. The Santa Ana “Devil Winds,” the emotional toll of Noah Baumbach’s film, Marriage Story, and her filmmaker mother, Kate Connor, all played some part or another.

Find the interview in full here. 

If you have the means, please donate to Feeding America here. 

Mara Connor | No Fun EP | website | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram | YouTube | Soundcloud | Bandcamp

Photo by The1point8

Originally appeared on Grimy Goods. 

Thundercat has earned a reverence among music lovers and makers alike. The artist né Stephen Bruner released It Is What It Is, his fourth studio album, on April 3; it is the follow-up to his critically acclaimed LP Drunk, which was as adventurous as it was plain goofy. While not completely serious—see: “Dragonball Durag” and “Overseas” featuring Zack Fox—his latest record is only ever a few moments away from affectionate vulnerability.

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Thundercat | buy It Is What It Is | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram | YouTube | Soundcloud | Bandcamp