Heartbreaking Bravery is in the midst of its return, but it’s showing—and will continue to show—a slightly different bent.
In my initial presentation of Heartbreaking Bravery, it was—first and foremost—a near-daily music blog. I published over 1,000 standalone pieces (including several featuring guest author submissions), released a meaningful, 100-track benefit compilation, and strung together a number of momentous achievements that still seem improbable, even in retrospect. I don’t take that for granted.
Towards the end of Heartbreaking Bravery‘s first lifetime, I accepted a job at Tone Madison. Working there took me from being a general freelancer at the publication, to the music section’s lead writer, to its editor, to becoming one of the publication’s co-owners. I unofficially stepped down from my position within Tone Madison‘s internal ranks in the final quarter of 2025. After publishing Tone Madison‘s annual best-of lists for local Madison music, my decision to leave was formally announced in the back half of a photo essay that contained a portion of my reasoning.
I have spent over 15 years writing professionally about music, in some way, shape, or form. This included writing for everything from Hot Lunch Collective to True Endeavors to Muzzle of Bees to PopMattersto Playground Misnomer to Consequenceto Fvck The Mediato AdHocto Heartbreaking Bravery to The Grey Estates to Post-Trashto Tone Madisonto a number of other in-between one-offs. A sizable percentage of my early adulthood has been dedicated to deconstructing and interrogating recently-released music. Over this (ongoing) stretch, I would estimate the present number of my published, music-focused pieces falls somewhere between 3,500 and 5,000.
That’s… a lot.
My relationship with music became more complicated over the course of those years, but the draw to its potency never wavered. Still, my interests in other areas expanded; photography (in all of its distinct forms), politics, wildlife, athletics, and other forms of culture all factored into the equation. At certain points, the appeal of continuing to unspool a never-ending string of new music to write about lost a bit of its lustre. But music, more than any other medium, still found a way to inspire strong innate feeling and productive, creative action. Tone Madison provided a platform that pushed me to engage with music in new ways, and it was an instructive experience that was worth the effort of honoring. But its guardrails eventually became incompatible with an increasingly demanding, time-intensive schedule. And my thoughts, in turn, went to carving out a space that could offer broader compatibility with my aims as a writer, and my interests as a musician and photographer. A space that could serve as a springboard for appreciations of the arts and culture—especially in cases where they’re less visible or appreciated—that spark inspiration.
It didn’t take long to realize that space already existed.
So Heartbreaking Bravery, as you may have noticed, is back. And it’s still going to celebrate music, but it isn’t going to be geared towards track or album writeups, as was once the case.
A track or album review may still appear on occasion, should my feelings about a given release become particularly strong, but this revived version of Heartbreaking Bravery will be primarily tethered to photojournalism. All of the pieces that are published from here on out will feature original photography (inclusive of live video), unless otherwise noted. Music will still be a prominent part of that lineage, as you may have gathered from the previous twoposts, as will editorializing, as you may have gathered from my general inability to shut up and leave well enough alone.
Going forward, Heartbreaking Bravery will be driven by first-person visual essays on arts and culture events. Music will still be the most consistent focal point, for a number of reasons, and I’m excited to unveil some things that have been in the works for years. In accordance with this reframing, the majority of the publication’s upcoming content will be directly connected to Madison, WI, with some stray forays into Milwaukee, Chicago, Minneapolis, and beyond. (I am not a static person, and the content of Heartbreaking Bravery will continue to reflect wherever life takes me, as a musician, photographer, or traveller.)
Expect a lot of Flickr links, YouTube embeds, and editorial meditations. Don’t be shocked to come across an errant interview, retrospective, or other scattershot format deviations, either. I’ll also be putting more effort into Instagram, where you can access a more visual, less copy-driven version of what’s being published on a week-to-week basis. Speaking of: expect to see a new post or two every other week, with productivity scaling up as Heartbreaking Bravery regains momentum.
It’s my hope that a number of those reading—and a number of those who were once kind enough to give Heartbreaking Bravery their time and attention—will be willing to click the proverbial radio on and enjoy the ride. There’s a lot of wide-open road ahead.
In the meantime, enjoy this playlist, which is composed of 100 tracks that were instrumental in steering Heartbreaking Bravery‘s first extended run (with a few recent tunes thrown in for good measure):
Keep the dial tuned, and be on the lookout for another future, playlist-including post celebrating exceptional music from this decade.
Editor’s Note: in the course of revisiting the above playlist, it became apparent permissions for several of the included videos had been shifted since their initial uploads, resulting in non-display. Please enjoy this bonus playlist that rescues each of those songs. All but two were able to be re-compiled, with the remaining exceptions having incrediblemusic videos that are worth the click(s).
Excuse Me, Who Are You?perform as part of the MELT ICE showcase at the High Noon Saloon on February 15, 2026.
For the near-duration of the horrific tenure of the second Trump administration, the United States has dulled Immigrations and Customs Enforcement (ICE) into a blunt instrument of federally-sanctioned domestic terrorism. In one of the most deliberately perverse moves of this century, the agency—and those responsible for its ongoing utility—have claimed that their efforts have been predicated on protecting American citizens. These claims have continued, despite reports of ICE members raping and torturing detainees, being prone to domestic violence, engaging in sex crimes involving children, and executing citizens, including those exercising their constitutional right to protest the agency’s descent into a functionally unregulated extrajudicial paramilitary.
One of the lines of response gaining popularity across social media and select activism circles is “we aren’t angry enough.”
It’s a line that has been lobbed primarily at a transparent cover-up attempt to shield the Trump administration and their political allies from any form of punishment. More times than not, the punishment—or lack thereof—in question is connected to Trump’s innumerable appearances and links to the Epstein files, an intentionally-shielded document collection that provides insight to a global, depraved, pedophilic sex trafficking ring. In even a cursory exploration of the files’ documents—at least when they’re available to be publicly accessed and aren’t suddenly and unceremoniously disappeared—”we aren’t angry enough” rings painfully true.
Bitch Creek.
It rings true, again, when the phrase is applied to ICE. Along with several of the people who may read this, I saw the raw footage of ICE agents ending the lives of multiple citizens in irredeemably brutal fashion. I will not link those videos here, but believe they are fundamentally necessary viewing to fully understand the nightmarishly craven nature of the agency. Most of us didn’t need the clarity of forensic breakdowns to understand the monumental injustice that was being facilitated, and even expedited, by Republicans sitting in the country’s highest offices. The requirements for participation in ICE at this point effectively greenlight a level of misconduct paramount to what would be seen as an abdication of duty for any recent era of “lawful enforcement.” It is, again, of no shock to see only the cities of Trump’s perceived political opponents be subject to this degree of violent, punitive persecution. Nor is it of any surprise that the areas that have been targeted by mass ICE deployments all boast diverse demographic makeups.
In Project 2025’s “Mandate for Leadership,” there are loose guardrails for deportation policy. Trump’s administrative actions have vastly exceeded the published guardrails (though it is worth noting there is well-founded suspicion that the more extreme measures were intentionally left out of publication). Even so, the present administration’s efforts have been in keeping with Project 2025’s calls to narrow the intent of ICE in a deliberate effort to remove immigrants, lessen the requirements for immigrant detention, and increase funding for ICE and detention facilities. Each of those calls to action on and for immigration enforcement has been invoked by the Trump administration, while continuing to brazenly ignore lawful mandates surrounding those issues.
The Spine Stealers.
Trump’s administration has signaled, repeatedly, that they generally believe themselves to be above the law. That they have blanket immunity from the need to comply, especially with lower-level decisions. Politicians holding out hope for restorative norms to be the standard have shown themselves to be fundamentally incapable of meaningfully meeting the moment, and their shockingly tepid and overwhelmingly feckless response to this presidency has only compounded its damage.
We are in new territory, and need to view that territory with a separate, singular lens that removes precedent, because, quite literally, there is no precedent for the collective actions of this administration. There are historical parallels to nationalism-minded moves towards zealously violent fascism, sure. But none of the rightfully reviled figureheads who led those movements were as entrenched in petulance, nor were any a central figure in a global pedophile operation. We are in the midst of what we can only hope to be the dying gasp of a new brand of overwhelming, social-media-minded narcissistic malfeasance that prizes cruelty above unity, all while pretending its patriotism. Actual justice may yet come, but the fact that we’re still waiting to see a shred of it delivered evidences multiple ongoing failures, many of which are tied to a deeply compromised judiciary.
Try as they might, Republicans—especially as they pertain to this administration—have not completely overtaken the judicial branch. Yes, Republicans have packed SCOTUS with a majority (and most are Trump appointees), and, yes, Republicans intentionally led successful, long-term efforts to capture the majority of judiciary appointments. But a non-zero percentage of those appointments were textualists born out of a Republican-brand deference to traditionalism. And they have shown an increased willingness to challenge this administration’s reckless disregard for lawfulness, in several separate areas. It is, at least, a distant glimmer of faint hope for a halfway reasonable future outcome regarding meaningful penalties for extraordinarily apparent misconduct. Perhaps more Republicans are beginning to realize that the optics of persecuting Trump will be a better long-term strategy than simply acquiescing to preserving what little may be left of his public image in the wake of multiple, severe ongoing investigations.
The administration’s various modes of misconduct—whether it comes via the administration’s handling of ICE, the Epstein files, the emoluments clause, the coordinated effort to overthrow the results of the 2020 election, or any other thing you could possibly single out—is part of why the rapidly-emergent “comply or die” crowd’s proposed, repeated framework is especially galling. If they truly wanted to invoke that ethos and hold everyone accountable to it, a lot of governmental officials and law enforcement officials—up to and including the president, his cabinet members, and various ICE agents—would be dead at their hands. Then again, people whose primary interest is in penalizing those they believe to be inherently inferior to them are not generally capable of meaningfully interrogating any evidence that pushes against their beliefs (especially in cases when it threatens their supposed authority). To expect them to have the ability for expanded reason or magically attain substantive critical thought isn’t going to do much for anyone. (At some point or another, we need to have a more collective reckoning about the festering authority complex being laundered via various outlets—including the Catholic church—towards susceptible young males who are conditioned to both expect and desire power, but that’s a conversation that deserves more time than can be provided in the context of this particular piece.)
The Spine Stealers.
On the side of civilian-level opposition, we are seeing an increase of righteous protest. Where a number of elected officials have been prone to failure, there has been hope in grassroots community-organizing. As is typically the case in times of turmoil, there have been a number of arts-led responses. Whether that art comes by way of cartooning, sign-making, film, illustration, photography, or any other medium, the through-line that sustains all of it and gives it weight is community. It’s something that holds especially true for music, and the musicians who are productively contributing to forms of protest that are in service of fortifying the security of their community members. (See-saw‘s Evan Minsker recently authored an extraordinary Rolling Stone article that explored Minneapolis musicians’ resolve in the face of an ICE occupation that resulted in the agency murdering two citizens, with more believed to have died in detention—with the latter category representing a medium of statistics that are being abhorrently, nefariously mishandled).
Despite ICE’s comparatively small activity in Wisconsin when compared to the Twin Cities, Wisconsin musicians have refused to be silent. I count myself among that group. We have intentionally pushed back against becoming tacitly complicit in the rise of practically unchecked, hyper-violent authoritarianism, and we remain appalled by the cataclysmic failure of what was once believed to be a robust system of checks and balances. Thus far, it seems that the only check or balance that seems to make any meaningful difference in creating headway between atrocity and reason is, disappointingly, optics and the tide of public opinion. No Wisconsinite needs to be reminded that the interest of most modern Republicans is inherently tethered to consolidating and fortifying protection of power. (Something we saw in nakedly shameless action via Scott Walker’s disgraceful exit from the Governorship.) If public opinion sinks low enough to threaten that power, they will typically take drastic, course-correcting action to distance themselves from PR poison.
Entertainment isn’t going to be our salvation. In no circumstance should we expect that to be the case. What it can do is encompass and be emblematic of surges of opinion. It can put a visual or a soundtrack to the communally-bound power of mass resistance. And that’s worth participating in, and supporting, which is why community-driven events like the “MELT ICE” showcase at the High Noon Saloon are so incredibly vital.
Hush Now, Sweet Halo.
Each of the four musicians participating in the show were from around Wisconsin, demonstrating a connective tissue underlining a common cause. Bitch Creek from Milwaukee, and three local Madison acts: The Spine Stealers (whose frontperson, Emma O’Shea, organized the event), Hush Now, Sweet Halo (HNSH), and Excuse Me, Who Are You? (EMWAY?). On paper, the bands’ connection lies in geography, political belief, and little else. Two of the acts—Bitch Creek and The Spine Stealers—enticingly blend elements of folk and indie-rock together in acoustic-led reveries. The pair of bands making up the other half of the equation are loud, raucous emo-tipped bands indebted to metal, post-rock, and post-hardcore influences. But their stylistic differences speak to the volume of boundary-demolishing collaboration that anchors effective protest events. It is an intentional testament to the strength and power of forging connections to create and support something larger than the sum of its individual parts. And that’s worth supporting and celebrating. As is the artist collective decision to donate all of the proceeds of the show to the Minnesota Immigrant Rights Action Committee (MIRAC) and Voces De La Frontera, two organizations that have been instrumental in pushing back against ICE’s barbarism and providing protection to immigrant communities.
Every artist performed admirably, and represented Wisconsin—and the cause they came together to support—exceptionally well. Bitch Creek’s opening set was a lovely way to ease into the proceedings, The Spine Stealers continue to be (in my frank and honest opinion) the best folk-forward band in the upper Midwest, HNSH’s brand of volume-pushing controlled chaos spoke directly to a number of my personal preferences, and EMWAY?’s headlining set confirmed the growing buzz around the quartet is extremely well-deserved. But the moment that will stay with me the most from that night wasn’t one based in music, but theater.
Before EMWAY?’s set was sent into a frenzied, technically-proficient sprint, the band brought out a personal friend—American Players Theatre’s Ari Pollack—to perform an impassioned, full-chested section of the under-heralded Sir Thomas More, a 16th-century play that is widely believed to contain contributions from Shakespeare. Sir Thomas More‘s estimated time of public unveiling was the early 1590’s, roughly 430 years ago, making the unceasing stubbornness of its central plot beats all the more enraging. Four centuries and change is a long time to make significant progress in the quest for attaining personal freedom without the oversight of an intentionally predatory governing body that maliciously targets its denizens, and to see so little change on those fronts over that amount of time is all the more reason to fight back with an increased amount of velocity.
Ari Pollack.
Here’s a portion of the ending excerpt from Pollack’s selection, which features the titular character railing against a familiar framework in an effort to calm a race riot, posing questions and observations that remain frustratingly relevant:
Tell me but this. What rebel captain, As mutinies are incident, by his name Can still the rout? Who will obey a traitor? Or how can well that proclamation sound, When there is no addition but a rebel To qualify a rebel? You’ll put down strangers, Kill them, cut their throats, possess their houses, And lead the majesty of law in line, To slip him like a hound. Say now the king (As he is clement, if th’ offender mourn) Should so much come to short of your great trespass As but to banish you, whether would you go? What country, by the nature of your error, Should give you harbor? Go you to France or Flanders, To any German province, to Spain or Portugal, Nay, any where that not adheres to England,— Why, you must needs be strangers. Would you be pleased To find a nation of such barbarous temper, That, breaking out in hideous violence, Would not afford you an abode on earth, Whet their detested knives against your throats, Spurn you like dogs, and like as if that God Owed not nor made not you, nor that the claimants Were not all appropriate to your comforts, But chartered unto them, what would you think To be thus used? This is the strangers’ case; And this your mountanish inhumanity.
When Pollack closed, a hushed silence gave way to rapturous applause, and those cheers were pushed louder still when EMWAY? vocalist Kyle Kinney punctuated the moment with a perfectly-placed, deeply-felt “Fuck ICE.” It was a beautiful and incredibly unexpected moment of cross-medium artistry, and conjured up a momentous springboard that EMWAY? didn’t hesitate to seize. Before the cheers subsided, the quartet was already tearing into a blistering set that proved to be a fittingly raucous end-cap to an evening born out of pent-up frustrations. Even when that frustration was made the focal point, the desire to work towards assisting vulnerable communities facing disproportionate harm, rather than preying on them for ideological gains, was evident.
At its core, empathy and the recognition that value isn’t exclusively tied to something as arbitrary as immigration status, race, gender, or sexual preference is the separation point between those of us who have maintained our humanity and those of us who have chosen to condemn it for the sake of a misguided, bound-for-failure supremacy quest.
MELT ICE was a welcome reminder that together we have strength, that art can be leveraged to make a difference, and to find and cultivate new modes of community. MELT ICE was an incredible, worthy evening, and it is my personal hope—and unwavering belief—that it won’t be the last of its kind we see in Madison.
If you missed the show but are still interested in contributing to the causes it was orchestrated to support, you can donate to MIRAC here, Voces De La Frontera here, and can find a list of fundraising resource links for communities impacted by ICE’s presence in the Twin Cities here. Every effort matters, and won’t go unappreciated.
An expanded photo gallery of the show can be accessed here.
To clear the air: shaping the future of Heartbreaking Bravery is going to be an ongoing process, and posts during that managerial interim are going to be more intermittent than not. But one thing I can say with certainty is that live videos are going to remain an integral part of what Heartbreaking Bravery both covers and produces.
And while the video for The Spine Stealers‘ would-be Tiny Desk submission was not made via an explicit arrangement with Heartbreaking Bravery, it does functionally represent the (partial) shape of forthcoming original multimedia content for this publication. If that doesn’t merit one of those intermittent posts, I don’t know what does.
When Heartbreaking Bravery was at its former apex of publishing, I was only occasionally covering Madison-based musicians. The past six years I’ve honed in on them more than any other sect of artists. And few artists left me spellbound over that run more frequently than The Spine Stealers.
If non-Madisonians need a primer on the aching, indie-folk-indebted band, their discography, and their underlying motives, all of that material is covered in a sweeping Tone Madison profile I authored last fall. Since that profile was published, vocalist and guitarist Kate Ruland announced her departure from the band, but remains involved in the project via a less front-and-center role. The move leaves vocalist and multi-instrumentalist Emma O’Shae as The Spine Stealers’ de facto frontperson.
A rapid-fire recap would mark the band out as prolific performers and chronic new-music releasers. A 2023 Blue Ox Festival win in the “Virtual Band Competition,” a small-but-steady run of national tours, and a lot of local favor all constitute additional footnotes.
Considering all of the above elements, it was a small joy to step behind the camera to shoot a live take of one of their new songs, “Hungover On A Sunday,” for a well-intended, but ultimately ill-fated attempt at a Tiny Desk submission.
Whether or not the deadline for NPR’s signature contest was met, the song at the center of the video deserves its flowers.
“Hungover On A Sunday” is another in a string of haunting, arresting relational narratives that thrive in messily excising heartache, and interrogating it under a microscope. Few bands, in or outside of Wisconsin, are quite as adept at dredging the depths of damaged romanticism of interpersonal relationships—romantic or platonic—and making it feel painfully, unmistakably, hyper-relatably human. (Okkervil River, Lucy Dacus, Rilo Kiley, and Elliott Smith all spring to mind as reasonable comparison points in that regard, underscoring the degree of The Spine Stealers’ ongoing narrative achievement.)
O’Shae’s voice itself is a perfect complement to those tendencies, creating a baked-in musical back-and-forth that illustrates subtle pain, tints of optimism, and a gnawing uncertainty that’s blanketed over by raw conviction. In O’Shae’s cracks, warbles, vibrato, and belts exists an emotional core that cuts across as painfully sincere, making ostensibly “pleasant” music confrontational in a way that feels both distinct and immersive. “Hungover On A Sunday” is a perfect vessel for that formula, and opens with one of the band’s best lines to date.
Hungover on a Sunday Thank God I’m not religious Burdened with guilt Though I wasn’t raised Catholic
What follows is a treatise of lost love, and the accompanying anguish. Core band member James Strelow’s intuitive mandolin playing, session bassist Andy Jones’ colorful upright plucking, and O’Shae’s contributions harmoniously congeal into—and cultivate—a welcomingly cozy atmosphere. In creating that sense of easy familiarity, the ensuing narrative heartache feels oddly comforting; a warm slice of shared, everyday trauma. And an unshakeable feeling best illustrated by a note-perfect chorus.
Sweet rain, outside, I loved you Honey dear, you’ll never know this poem’s about you You’ll never see clear You’ll never know how many times that I die Every sunrise without you here
It’s a stunning song, and one that I’m eager to hear in a full studio recording context. As for the video itself, it was good to put some nice equipment to use, and fun to draw some visual inspiration from an old favorite. Shooting it and cutting it all together felt purposeful enough to warrant an update, and a glimpse of things to come.
In Heartbreaking Bravery‘s initial run, the phrase “stay tuned” became a bit of a mantra. Two simple words that carried a double meaning. A hyper-intentional choice of language that spoke directly to the promise of an ambiguous but worthwhile future, and the literal act of keeping things in tune. A train has to stay on the rails to get to its intended destination.
Heartbreaking Bravery‘s metaphorical train never fully divorced the rails, it was just relegated to a standstill; a complicated piece of machinery laying dormant at a half-abandoned station. Apart from an intermittently active YouTube presence, there has been no consistency in production or movement from any channel carrying Heartbreaking Bravery‘s name or logo since 2019. In the front end of 2026, that will change.
So, once more: stay tuned.
For reviews. For photos. For videos. For essays. For interviews. For reflections, recollections, and other refractions of what it means to wholly celebrate music in a cultural landscape that repeatedly chooses to intentionally deprioritize—and maliciously devalue—the arts.
While things get prepped and start slowly churning to life once more, anyone with any amount of interest is encouraged to follow along (or catch up) with the work I’ve been spearheading as the Music Editor over at Tone Madison for the past six years. My contributions to Tone Madison—a publication well worth supporting—will continue. Even taking that output into account, it has become increasingly apparent that the time has come to breathe new life into Heartbreaking Bravery. It’s an outlet that has had a profound impact on my life over the past 13 years, and that impact has ultimately pointed me towards a return.
It’s a hard thing to let something so important quietly recede into oblivion, and becomes harder still when the reasons to enliven it become more substantial than the reasons to let it decay.
Beyond an admittedly hazy “this year,” I would be hard-pressed to specify an exact date for when Heartbreaking Bravery will resume posting material with any amount of demonstrable consistency.
But I can promise, directly, that there is much more to come.
One last time, with feeling:
Stay tuned.
—Steven Spoerl
Editor’s Note: Due to an evolving situation that was beyond the reach of my immediate control, the initially-stated resumption period of “late 2025” has been adjusted to “early 2026.” This piece has been updated to reflect the adjusted timeframe. More material is coming, and it’s coming soon.
Knowing what the future holds, no matter how certain you think you are, is an impossibility. For now, it appears we’re on track to find a return to live music at some point this year, for better or worse. Safety and sustainability will be key in the pursuit of giving back an aspect of life most audiences and performers have been sorely missing for over a year. In the spirit of that looming return, it felt appropriate to return to some of the visual materials of live shows I’ve archived over the last 10 years.
Dating back to Spring 2011 and spread across multiple cameras, states, and festivals, I’ve put together a visual retrospective of some of the work that helped me feel at home across that time. Maybe nostalgia has gotten the better of me as I’ve forced myself into extended isolation but I firmly believe this type of work has greater meaning. Documentation can exist outside of stock archivist nature and connect to something deeper, exploring past the boundaries of generic time stamps into qualities that are more complex and intangible. Whether that be something as pointed as the evocation of a specific feeling or as sweeping as the nature of the human condition, there’s often an implicit value that’s more difficult to define but crucial to capture.
Understanding how to respect the possibilities of photography and videography has become critical to not just myself but to my favorite photographers, a few of which I’m fortunate to consider friends. Throughout the 700 photographs and 50 videos featured here, there are intentional reflections of the places and people that continuously made me understand the gravity of my surroundings. From feeling awed by those close to me as they came into their own as artists to the acute understanding that the conditions cultivated around Stevens Point, WI basement shows around the start of the 2010’s could never be truly duplicated. All anyone with a camera can ever hope to do is capture a modicum of what makes those moments singular.
To that extent, I hope this collection stands as not just an example of the tenderness I felt towards the people and venues featured here but as an extension of my gratitude. From DBTS and its residents, who took me in for a time when I moved to NYC in 2015, to Baby’s All Right, where I was fortunate enough to work doors over a summer in 2015, to the people who made up the acts that became my friends, chosen family, creative partners, and confidants: Good Grief, Heavy Looks, Charly Bliss, LVL UP, Perfect Pussy, Tenement, and so many more. I remain indebted to the people, places, and moments that have helped shape the person I’ve become and am hopeful that the near-future holds more of that type of importance for us all.
Take a look back as we collectively look forward to live music’s return by clicking on this Flickr link to access those photographs and by rifling through the videos embedded below. Enjoy. Hopefully some of this will mean as much to some of you as it does to me.
2020 has been a difficult year. There’s no way around the fact that the past 365 days have constituted one of the bleakest runs of days in any of our lifetimes. From the violent white supremacy of America’s police making headlines to a global pandemic that’s left hundreds of thousands dead around the world to an incalculably incompetent showing from government officials around the country, there’s been no shortage of reasons to despair. Fortunately, music’s offered something of a reprieve. For some it became an outlet to vent, for some it become a means of coping, and for others it became a reason for hope.
I haven’t written anything on Heartbreaking Bravery in 2020 but I did take over, officially, as the music editor over at local outlet Tone Madison, which has kept me busy. I’ve also been working as a photographer with a local studio and doing independent contract work for a tech umbrella, while continuing to seek freelance opportunities. In the midst of all of that, I wanted to make sure I did something with this place, which has remained a critical part of my life, even in its public absence. Towards the start of 2020, I got the idea to reassemble how I wanted to feature new music. After kicking around a lot of ideas, I settled on something specific: creating and curating a hyper-personalized radio program for the new music I wanted to highlight.
While that idea never came to total fruition, I realized there was a way I could subvert this idea into something useful while staying close to that initial concept. Over the past 12 months, I have been assembling (and intentionally sequencing) a playlist of the songs and music videos that, in previous years of Heartbreaking Bravery’s existence, would’ve warranted standalone features. Additionally, I started compiling an ancillary playlist of the honorable mentions, which has no reason or rhyme beyond the unifying principle of the songs and videos contained in that mix being worth watching/hearing. The Best of 2020 playlist features 309 songs and videos, while the playlist containing the honorable mentions contains 1,711. In total, 2020.
I may take the following week or two to assemble a more traditional list of the albums, songs, and videos that impacted me the most over 2020 but, for now, I’m happy with this: a reflection of a year’s worth of work and a time capsule for the worthwhile art that helped navigate and contextualize an immensely difficult year. I don’t know what 2021 will hold and I continue to grapple with the direction of this publication and the question of whether or not it should be laid to rest. I may never have an answer but I do know that these songs and videos deserved notice, appreciation, and praise. I hope anyone that clicks into these finds something new to celebrate.
THE BEST OF 2020
(Content warning: a few of the videos contained in this mix involve flashing lights)
At some point over the next few months, Heartbreaking Bravery will cease the bulk of its editorial aspect. A lot of thought went into this decision and the scant posting of the past few years likely reflected this was on the near-horizon. While I still firmly believe in the mission of this site (to provide a space that elevated smaller artist’s work to a point of focus typically reserved for acts with deeper pockets), the work simply became too much at various points. While it’s easy to make blanket generalizations like “it was getting to be too much”, I wanted to show the proof of the extent of that work.
Over a year ago, the Heartbreaking Bravery twitter account started running a series called A Quick Hit that promoted work that wouldn’t necessarily have received a standalone feature on the site but still deserved to be highlighted. In effect, this was to not just cut down on the time spent sculpting the feature pieces but to allow them to breathe more fully while giving a more focused platform to the separated selections. While the time spent on curating and promoting remained roughly the same, at some point I realized the best way to reflect the breadth of what that entailed was to make a comprehensive compilation of the songs I liked — and possibly even loved — that, for one reason or another, weren’t selected as features.
So, at the end of November 2018, I decided to start making that list. I continued adding to that collection up through the final week of 2019. There were several points throughout that process that I set a small parameter, tracking the number submissions I received or considered versus the overall selections I liked. On six separate occasions, what I liked never accounted for more than 17% or less than 12%. Through that exercise I realized how much time I was spending on things that I either actively disliked or struck me as uninteresting. While the sheer thrill of discovering unexpected gems buried in the rough still makes rifling through an excess of mediocrity worthwhile, the toll that takes can be surprisingly taxing (to this point, the list of links below is slightly under 1/10th of what I listened to in 2019).
On average, I receive upwards of 1,000 emails a week. Some get deleted on sight but the vast majority of them received a click-through and the requisite amount of attention. At some point, the time spent entertaining the options nearly quadrupled the time I was spending covering the music and videos I would’ve liked to have given even more attention. In addition to the daily email routine, I had a list of sites I would try to check on daily: Stereogum, Post-Trash, The Grey Estates, Impose, Various Small Flames, GoldFlakePaint, dimestore saints, Gimme Tinnitus, Brooklyn Vegan, and Noisey, were all part of those ranks, among others. I’d also keep an eye out for recommendations from friends or touring bands and I’d habitually add labels to the accounts I’d follow on Soundcloud, which I’d also check daily.
I would do my best to keep track of the hundreds upon hundreds of channels I subscribed to on YouTube and, whenever possible, if I found a record I loved on bandcamp, I would look at the titles that artist had listed as further listening suggestions. Whenever a new band started generating buzz among the musicians and friends I trusted, I would look at their upcoming bills and scope out the acts listed I’d never heard, knowing that there was a decent chance I’d wind up walking away with a new artist to give a deeper look in the near-future. All of those habits created an enormous world that became next to impossible to traverse without losing ground on other aspects of my life; I had less time for my actual, paying work, my relationships, and my other hobbies.
In 2019, I did my best to start balancing out my completist tendencies when it came to Heartbreaking Bravery’s overall coverage with some other areas of my life that provided me with fulfillment and kept me in check both physically and mentally: I started skateboarding again, I completed a home studio and started making music on my own, I invested more time in my partner and her needs, and I made it a point to occasionally step out of my comfort zone. I became a full-time photographer, expanded the scope of my outside contributions, became more politically involved on behalf of causes that I believe would yield the most productive good, and dedicated a little more time to studying film and critical analysis. I will look to continue doing all of these things throughout 2020 in addition to seeking more avenues for collaboration.
Yet, in the midst of all of that change, I still focused an inordinate amount of time on Heartbreaking Bravery and the music and videos that had caught my ear. I couldn’t shake it entirely and learned that I may never be able to shake it entirely because I do still believe in what this place has always strived to accomplish. So, I leave this here as not just a testament to the work that’s required to make something like this hum when it’s just one person in control of every aspect of the operation but as a transparent resource for those who are considering starting something similar, which will always be needed.
Before I leave the list below (which may or may not break this site entirely), I’d like to leave a list of suggestions for anyone who is actively considering starting a blog that primarily functions as a way to fixate on smaller releases:
Be inclusive. Be careful. Do your research. Don’t feature abusers in any capacity. Credit the photographers of promo pics, whenever possible (even if it means sending an email, which is a length I rarely went to but would’ve liked to have done more). Promote ideologies that are empathy-based. Look for artists that don’t have PR but do have strong material; find them, promote them, and make them know their work has value. Champion independent voices, especially ones that are challenging the capitalistic overreach of the industry at large. Be kind. Listen to genuine criticism when it comes along and try to use it in a constructive manner but also defend what you believe in and don’t let criticism challenge your conviction on that point (but still give that criticism some consideration). Accept help, even if your pride has to take a hit in the process. Lift up your contemporaries and try to foster a sense of community over a sense of competition. Be kind to publicists and try your best to be responsive. Don’t let traffic or lack of interest dictate worth or value. Push for the art that speaks to you and make sure you’ve done your best to get it heard or seen. Be stubborn. Be persuasive. Evolve.
During the course of Heartbreaking Bravery’s now 5+ year run, I set a lot of arbitrary guidelines that I believed would make me a better writer. In some senses, those guidelines did help instill some very particular disciplines but they also allowed me an invisible wall that was always a little thrilling to break, which can be helpful as it gives a practice that could grow monotonous a new life. Here were a few: avoid first-hand narrative, avoid gender-specific terminology (“songwriter,” “bandleader,” “mastermind,” “multi-instrumentalist,” were all helpful terminologies in addition to “they”), disclose close personal connections, never over or under-value anyone based on anything outside of their art, use original visuals whenever possible, avoid being overly passive, and make sure to keep things fair in terms of representation. A few of those I will stand by and a few I will break and continue to break when appropriate (this entire post has essentially shattered the first person perspective rule of thumb) but they were rules of worth.
Another thing I avoided, though maybe more than I should have, was including outside exclusive features for this site’s standalone spots. I was always adamant in providing a direct route to art with as few steps as possible and still remain openly critical of exclusive premieres (which lend more to a sense of competition than a sense of community) but never properly honored a handful of releases I genuinely loved. To that end, I will make up for some of those oversights here by kicking this list off in earnest with a list of exclusive premieres I either liked or loved, before divvying the rest up between Soundcloud, bandcamp, and YouTube. Many of these will appear as links and as links only, as the amount of time it would take to properly tag these would be beyond exhausting. There may be doubles scattered here and there but, again, this was almost impossible to track from the jump. So, please: click to your heart’s content and leave this list with something new to love.
For the past 5+ years, I’ve been dividing this site’s content between three main platforms: Soundcloud, YouTube, and bandcamp. A rare Spotify link appeared on occasion for truly exceptional releases but I tried my best to avoid that situation entirely. I chose those three for ease of access and general convenience, as they seemed to provide a more direct way to unlock off-the-radar artists and their work, while not engaging in the casual classicism that’s built into paid subscription services. The extent of how much I used those sites will be revealed in the ensuing post, which may or may not break this site entirely, but to warm up, I’ll divide the best offerings of the past two months between those triangular points. Songs, music videos, and records are all accounted for and will be mixed in together. Click on anything and reap the rewards of that decision.
Surprise EPs, rapid-fire singles, daring long-form narratives, and more populated the best records of October. All but two of the artists featured in this list have been featured on this site in the past, while the two new entries provided head-spinning introductions that set each respective act up for further exposure. Each record hits different nerves of pleasure, so whether prospective listeners are looking for something a little more streamlined or a lot more frantic, they should be covered by something on the list.
Due to time constraints and the emphasis placed on the upcoming year and decade-end material, this will be an abridged version of what was originally intended. Nonetheless, these are all very much worthy of listeners’ full time and attention. Don’t let the scant review space stand as an indication of worth; a few of these will be mentioned again shortly. In the meantime, enjoy exploring below.
1. Charly Bliss – Supermoon
Explosive, volatile, and a perfect bridge between Charly Bliss‘ first era and their current mode. An unabashedly energetic thrill ride from start to finish, one of the strongest EP’s of the year, complete with some of the best songs from one of the decade’s best bands (“Feed” and “Heaven” alone could’ve powered this into a featured selection).
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2. Ex-Vöid – Ex-Vöid
One of the more interesting punk bands of the past new years, Ex-Vöid feels like a natural extension of the members’ previous projects (namely, Joanna Gruesome) with a dash of something new. There’s a specificity to both of the songs on this 7″, one more pop and one more hardcore, that points to Ex-Vöid being a more fully realized project than some might think.
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3. Lightning Bolt – Sonic Citadel
Few bands have gained the type of singular reputation afforded Lightning Bolt. One of noise’s most celebrated duos, the pair matches virtuosic playing with an unmatched, almost feral intensity. Sonic Citadel, their first record in four years, find them in a more polished pop mode (by their own unique set of standards) and yields some of the most immediate and enjoyable work of an already legendary career.
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4. Black Beach – Tapeworm
Black Beach have appeared on this site a few times in the past and their natural artistic progression continues to make an impression. Tapeworm, the band’s latest, finds them at the top of their game, blending post-hardcore production aesthetics with noise-punk intensity and a deceptively pop-leaning melodic sensibility that tethers everything into a uniquely compelling whole.
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5. clipping. – There Existed An Addiction to Blood
One of the most interesting acts of the past 10 years, clipping. have carved out a unique niche for themselves through a remarkable consistency. Even as the noise-rap band grows bolder and more adventurous with their artistic choices, there’s an innate quality to both the production and bandleader Daveed Diggs’ astonishing command of narrative that makes the trio’s latest, There Existed An Addiction to Blood, stand out at every unpredictable, terrifying turn.
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6. Blush Cameron – Ambiguous World
Every once in a while, a bedroom pop record rolls around from a local upstart that is so fully-formed and thoughtful in its concept and execution that it feels as if the artist responsible for its creation has been making waves for years. Blush Cameron’s Ambiguous World falls firmly into that rare category, utilizing a fondness for ’90s alternative to great effect, imbuing an impressive record with a lo-fi warmth that elevates the whole affair from great to irresistible.
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7. Great Grandpa – Four of Arrows
One of 2019’s most unexpected records for a whole host of reasons, Great Grandpa‘s sophomore effort is a breathtakingly accomplished piece of music. A startling leap ahead in directional sensibility, Four of Arrows finds the band transforming their explosive, pop-leaning math-grunge into a genre-defiant collection of styles. Radiohead, Imogen Heap, The Cranberries, Tom Petty, and Cyndi Lauper all somehow wind up being major points of reference across the record, making it one of the year’s most fascinating listens. Impressively, everything the band throws at the wall here works. An astonishing record.
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8. Carver Baronda – Spooky Love
Spooky Love, the latest EP from DIY alt-country force of nature Carver Baronda, is the songwriter’s most impressive work to date. Filled to the brim with a romanticized take on the genre’s best strains, Baronda carves out a collection of memorable tracks that are teeming with intricate subtleties and well-articulated nuance (the restrained slide work is especially tasteful). A small but staggering EP from an artist that deserves everyone’s full attention.
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9. Amy O – Shell
One of the more consistently engaging emergent voices in indie pop, Amy O followed up 2017’s winsome Elasticwith a more considered album, allowing it’s thoughtfulness to pay dividends. From the opening title track through the 10 songs that follow, Shell casually invites and thoroughly rewards investment. A small but notable triumph for an intriguing songwriter that never seems to stop getting better.
While 2019 hasn’t been as strong for the music video format as some previous years, there are still gems to be found. A quartet of them popped up during the course of October, each one accentuating the strength of their central song while holding their own as a work of art. Varied in approach and execution, each of these clips had something unique to offer. Each one deserves a certain level of investigation and the investment that process entails. Give all four a watch below.
1. Amy O – Crushed
Color damage, lo-fi effects, solid editing, and a great basement pop song. Sometimes that’s all of the ingredients you need to create a smart, engaging music video and Amy O‘s “Crushed” is certainly one of those times. Simple, effective, and just about perfect.
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2. Wilsen – Ruiner
Mitzi Akaha and Tamsin Wilson deliver strong turns in Michael Simon’s clip for “Ruiner”, a single from Wilson’s Wilsen project. A quietly unnerving clip that oddly echoes two Elisabeth Moss films, Queen of Earth and The One I Love. Shot in the style of a Gothic psychological horror, Simon makes great use of atmosphere and a superlative lead performance. Jake Saner’s cinematography gives a perfect read on the song’s tone and pushes the “Ruiner” clip over the top, leaving it as one of 2019’s best clips.
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3. Ada Lea – 180 Days
“180 Days”, the latest music video from Ada Lea walks a fine line between traditional music video and lyric video. Never really establishing a clear narrative, the clip mostly thrives on Lea singing to the camera in a variety of poses and costumes as the lyrics scroll by on the bottom. Despite the simple conceit, those foundations prove to be more than enough, as “180 Days” keeps the viewers attention steadfast.
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4. Common Holly – Crazy OK
When I Say to You Black Lightning, the most recent full-length from Common Holly, is an astounding work. One of the record’s strongest highlights comes in the form of “Crazy OK”, the record’s explosive finale. Max Taeuschel & Aaliyeh Afshar stepped behind the camera for the song’s music video and spearheaded an incredibly memorable visual accompaniment. Leaning heavily on the song’s lyrical narrative, Taeuschel and Afshar let the images of bandleader Brigitte Naggar’s posture and movement provide an effective maximization. Gripping through and through, “Crazy OK” is easy to admire and hard to shake.
Heartbreaking Bravery 