“No Face” was directed by Evan James Atwood and consists of nothing more than a gorgeously framed shot of Heynderickx running through “No Face” using stop motion techniques and the assistance Atwood’s fingers to convey something that strikes deep, tapping into something near the transcendental. As a narrative, it suggests complications and simplicity simultaneously, hinting at the distances of the relationships we form around our identity and how those relationships shape our existence.
At every turn, “No Face” is mesmerizing, pulling the viewer in until their eyes are practically pressed against the screen. It’s another beautiful example of how minimalist trappings can lead to maximized results, as the clip finds a way of climbing from the world of curiosities into the realms of the unforgettable. One of the most distinctively compelling clips of the first half of 2018, it’s hard to fathom the imprint it leaves behind fading anytime soon.
Watch “No Face” below and pick up I Need to Start A Garden here.
Fresh off the release of Ex-Vöid‘s effortlessly charming lead-off track “Boyfriend”, the trio wasted no time in ushering out a concise EP. All of the sensibilities that Alanna McArdle and Owen Williams showcased as (now ex-) members of Joanna Gruesome are back on full display in Ex-Vöid. Gorgeous harmonies, a pitch-perfect balancing act of harsh noise and pristine tones, and a sense of playfulness embedded into relentless aggression, Ex-Vöid are more than winsome at first blush but reveal a surprising amount of layering, as does their first release.
Both “Anyone (Other Than U)” and “(Angry At You) Baby” are assured pieces of basement pop injected with enough punk bite to satisfy the genre’s die-hard loyalists. McArdle and Williams play off of each other to perfection, their voices working in tandem to strengthen each other. It’s the dichotomies, scales, and unity that defines Ex-Vöid, which presents the band as fully-formed, incredibly assured, and ready to conquer whatever comes their way. Easily one of the year’s strongest EP’s and unquestionably one of our best new bands.
Listen to Ex-Vöid below and pick it up from the band here.
Melodic, bitter, bright, and tongue-in-cheek, “Future Me Hates Me” showcases The Beths at their absolute best. Raising hell and denouncing anyone that gets in their way but sparing the worst of their jabs for themselves, “Future Me Hates Me” is a masterclass in self-deprecation. Subverting a cavalcade of pop-punk tropes and leaning on acts like the Pixies for cues as much as the best powerpop records, The Beths have crafted an anthem for the painfully self-aware.
Gaining steam as it strives forward, hopeful for more but resigned to the knowledge that a lifetime of perpetual disappointment might cultivate an unbreakable pattern, “Future She Hates Me” is a memorable run of pragmatic hopelessness packaged as a gift to the people who know exactly what that means. Turn it up and drown out any persistent negativity by celebrating that there are always measures (and means) of personal control that can be easily managed.
Listen to “Future Me Hates Me” below and pre-order the record here.
Nearly a year ago, this site hosted the premiere of Honeyfitz’s oddly moving clip for “October Air“, which demonstrated a lot of promise. That promise has continued to build over that near-year, culminating in a forthcoming EP entitled Cutting Your Hair. It’s highlight, the elegiac “Haircut”, premieres here tonight.
Elihu Jones, the mastermind behind Honeyfitz, has refined both technique and control over time, honing what can prove to be an elusive craft. One of the more intriguing figures operating in the bedroom pop world, Jones has never shied away from confronting difficulty, something on full display in “Haircut”. Not only is this Honeyfitz’s finest moment to date, as beautiful as it is mournful, it’s also the most challenging. There’s a sense that Jones is probing at some demons in “Haircut” and it can be uncomfortable to contemplate even as the composition radiates a tranquil beauty.
Even though the track is two and a half minutes, by the time “Haircut” ends, it only seems as if the song’s been playing for mere seconds. There’s a magnetic pull that takes the listener deep into a painfully relatable world, touching on the ennui of young adulthood to mesmerizing effect. Everything here works gorgeously, from the shouted backing vocals that act as both punctuation marks and affirmations that hope exists to the instrumentation itself, which is the most richly layered work of Honeyfitz’s young discography.
“Haircut” is another perfect song to soundtrack a volatile spring, offering up glimpses of warmth in a struggle to escape barren desolation. A major triumph, “Haircut” is a song that deserves to be heard by the people who are willing to listen. A sublime work and a potent reminder of Jones’ burgeoning talent, it’s a song that doesn’t deserve to be missed.
Listen to (and watch a clip for) “Haircut” below and keep an eye on Honeyfitz’s bandcamp for more updates about Cutting Your Hair.
The third piece (and second premiere) of sprawling, snarling post-punk to go up as a feature today, Wheelbarrel’s Feast On Sand may be the most unexpectedly brilliant of the lot. It’s a formidable and incredibly self-assured from a new Columbus, OH power trio and it packs enough power in its punch to leave just about anyone reeling. Opening with “Traced”, Wheelbarrel and Feast On Sand both get a memorable introduction, the song showcasing a lethal but surprisingly pensive strain of a sound that falls somewhere between Even Hand and Buildings.
From that point forward, the trio meticulously navigates a hybrid of post-punk, grunge, hardcore, basement pop, and a handful of other sub-genres while cultivating an uneasy atmosphere, bridging a melancholic sensibility with a carefully-repressed but still lurking anger. All of those elements of the band’s identity combine into something as mesmerizing as it is urgent. Each song breathing more depth into Feast On Sand‘s display of life, adding potency to an unexpected reckoning.
“Sacred Things”, the EP’s penultimate offering, contains the most haunted experiment of this quartet of tracks, marrying spoken word to a creeping minimalist that evokes the kind of hushed-breath dread typically found in arthouse horror films. When the song breaks from that pattern, it’s incredibly unnerving, the vocal delivery tilting from being mired in gloom to coy amusement to startling effect. It’s one of several great moments on Feast On Sand that suggests Wheelbarrel are going to have a strong shot at a visible future.
The EP ends on its title track, which expertly combines everything that’s come before it into a gripping victory lap that ably demonstrates not just Wheelbarrel’s arsenal but their identity. One EP in and it’s clear that Wheelbarrel already have a strong sense of themselves and a purpose to match, hitting stratospheric heights while keeping their attention fixated on the world’s dust and dirt. Modest, spellbinding, and brilliant, Feast On Sand stands as one of the strongest debuts of 2018’s first half. Dive in and explore.
Listen to Feast On Sand below and get a copy here.
A band that’s continuously brimmed with an indistinguishable intensity from the outset, Big Ups’ attack has grown refined over the course of a handful of records. All of them are teeming with cathartic releases and bear evidence that their understanding of their own dynamics has deepened over the course of that run. It’s an understanding that hits a new apex with “Imaginary Dog Walker”, the band using silence and restraint like a weapon, holding the listener hostage and forcing them to really listen.
Brash, abrasive, and extremely disquieting, “Imaginary Dog Walker” is a perfect demonstration of the band’s growth and a fearless monument to their formidable talent. Opening with a small sampling of glitch-pop, “Imaginary Dog Walker” quickly segues into the kind of forward-thinking hardcore that enlivened the band’s past two records (both of which stand as tall now as they did on the day of their release). Soon enough, the band’s back to masterfully navigating a creeping tension, the music acting as a lit fuse of a bomb that always seems like its a second away from detonating.
When “Imaginary Dog Walker” does work itself up into its first genuine frenzy, it’s hard to tell if it’s the moment of release or just the song playing an effective trick. In an impressive feat, that moment manages to belong equally to both outcomes, ushering in both a cavalcade of high-wire frustrations that erupt and a false ending, quickly cutting back into the quieter tendencies of the song’s opening stretch. All the while, the narrative waxes poetic on life and destruction, playing into the unpredictably vicious swings of the music with a honed precision.
In its final minute, the song becomes a towering behemoth, “we walk the dogs” is screamed over and over becoming more of a mantra than a chorus. All the while, the guitar work — which remains some of the most inventive in the genre — and the rhythm section collide into a bludgeoning force, conjuring up a hypnotic storm. It’s dark, it’s eerie, and it’s masterful, it’s also one of the best songs to come out of 2018. Lend it as many listens as possible.
Listen to “Imaginary Dog Walker” (and watch a live video of the song) below and pre-order Two Parts Together from Exploding In Sound.
Last week, sewingneedle unveiled the enigmatic music video for their excellent “feel good music” and today they’re following up that clip with the album opener of their forthcoming user error, “two three four”. The song exists in the same bleary vein as “feel good music”, finding ways to relentlessly attack from an extremely specific angle, as dark as it is energized, falling neatly in line with some of the finest acts on Exploding In Sound’s roster (Two Inch Astronaut, Kal Marks, Pile, etc).
“two three four” goes a long way in setting the tone for the band’s formidable user error, dropping the listener into a world of shadowy corners that give cover to lurking demons. The clean guitar tones add some enhancement to an already abrasive sensibility, allowing the moments of blistering distortion to gain even more magnitude. Half-open questions are cried out in nervous anticipation, directed at next to no one, the music surging underneath with the insistent counting tethering the entire affair back to the dreck of life’s monotony.
All of it congeals into a formidable piece of post-punk, elevated by its own commitment to noise. Intentionally ugly and undeniably compelling, “two three four” serves as a heavy reminder of the predetermined regulations we’re expected to navigate through our existence. It’s a song that has a lot on its mind and aptly conveys those thoughts using minimalist tactics in a clever twist, suggesting that operating outside of the lines can lead to memorably great results.
When the track races towards its finish, one thing does become abundantly clear among the songs frustrated uncertainty: sewingneedle are done existing in the background. This is a band that’s ready to make a statement by creating their own moment of reckoning. user error is that reckoning and “two three four” only hints at its astounding depths. While the record will arrive soon to address the curious in full, “two three four” is good company to keep. Leave it on repeat and let it play.
Listen to “two three four” below and pre-order user error here.
That reintroduction comes with the arrival of Ex-Vöid, a power trio that falls neatly in line with where McArdle and Owen Williams left off with their old project, bringing the exact same kind of kinetic energy back to the table. Twee indie pop sensibilities once again infiltrating a noisy post-punk lens in “Boyfriend”, the band’s irresistible new single. Taking cues from a perfectly curated list of sources, from Sarah Records to Flying Nun, Ex-Vöid rekindle a spark that was seemingly extinguished when they departed Joanna Gruesome.
“Boyfriend” is short but it’s sharp, sinking its hooks in deep enough to leave the kind of marks that lead to fondly-recognized scars. The into is a cavalcade of noise but that disintegrates into sunny melodies in an instant, the band launching into that familiar but distinct sound, bridging their influences to their own singular identity. It’s a thrilling listen that offers up a few more surprises as it goes, offering up enough grace notes to portend a bright future for a voice that we should all be glad has rejoined the table.
Listen to “Boyfriend” below and pre-0rder Ex-Vöid from Don Giovanni.
It’s rare and only granted to something genuinely masterful but once in a while, this site will deviate from its ethos of supporting the kind of bands that could genuinely use as many platforms as possible to elevate their work to a more widely-accessible world and turn its lens towards a piece from an artist that’s already a bona fide celebrity in the mainstream music world. It hasn’t happened since Run The Jewels’ Lakeith Stanfield-starring “Close Your Eyes (and Count To Fuck)” but late Saturday night Donald Glover donned his soon-to-be-retired Childish Gambino guise and released the earth-shattering music video for “This Is America”.
Directed by Hiro Murai, one of Glover’s most trusted collaborators and his go-to helmer for Childish Gambino clips, the video starts off innocuously enough, featuring not much more than a man picking up a guitar on a chair to sit down and play while Glover begins dancing, while a gorgeous swooping pan shot from the camera conveys a strange jubilance. It’s shot through with some weird energy and staged in a surprisingly grandiose fashion, bringing the work of Murai’s contemporaries Daniels and Nabil to mind. In a mere matter of seconds, the symbolic flourishes begin to start poking through.
Glover struts his way through a series of flashy moves, stopping for an odd pose while the camera pulls back to reveal a man whose head has been bagged sitting on a chair. In that fleeting moment, the entire mode shifts violently, to a genuinely startling effect. It leads to a low-wide two shot (above) that has to be a strong contender for the Shot of the Year in any film-related medium, Glover pulling a gun on the anonymous man and striking a Jim Crow pose before blowing his brains out.
In a second, the music swings from Gospel-tinged Africana to dark trap, with Glover announcing “This is America.” From that point forward, the clip focuses an unfixing gaze on America’s ills, some specific to the black community (the stigma attached to depression hitting especially hard), others a commentary on how those things are processed by America at large. Violence has become reduced to frivolity, suicide constantly takes place on the very fringes of the public’s eye, death’s white horse is coursing through an increasingly violent, troubled world and the self-appointed protagonists of unspeakable cruelty can’t evade their own actions.
All of this and more is taken on in “This Is America” which somehow intertwines those incredibly significant topics with micro-commentaries on the state of rap, touching on everything from Chance’s meticulously crafted “good man of God” persona to background lyrical riffs and allusions to rappers like Kodak Black (all while enlisting a stacked feature roster comprised of Young Thug, 21 Savage, BlocBoy JB, Rae Sremmurd’s Slim Jxmmi, and Migos’ Quavo, then pointedly reducing their contributions).
At every single turn, some wildly unpredictable, some dangled like bait (the introduction of the clip’s youngest cast members evoking the exact same dread that the opening episode of The Wire’s fourth season inspired) of “This Is America” there is fear, chaos, and odd bursts of joy, unaffected, desensitized, and painfully reminiscent of what modern society has become. There’s a war on religion, religion’s being co-opted for self-serving, people die, and still, our most pressing concern is keeping up with the latest dance move.
Not just a cold, unfeeling look at the concept of minstrelism, “This Is America” lights a match and shines a shred of light on everything before letting it bloom into a fully fledged spotlight. Murai’s direction and immaculate staging driving home a non-stop arsenal of memorable moments that are uncomfortable to consider and dissect. It’s masterful work that ranks among Glover and Murai’s finest work together, which is especially notable considering they’re both in the midst of producing some of the most exceptional installments of television’s Golden Era with their work on FX’s Atlanta.
Here, they lay the weight of America’s burdens on the table, twisting them into an impressionistic splatter paint canvas that cuts nerve after nerve with deadly precision. While some of Childish Gambino’s earliest work remains both inconsistent and problematic, it’s good to see Glover growing as a thinker, a musician, and an activist. He’s seemingly acknowledged his own complicity with “This Is America” and found a way to condemn not just that past, but that entire path that’s been walked and continues to be walked by so many.
Glover and Murai also, for the first time, have finally figured out how to effectively translate Glover’s ridiculously clever sensibilities to the visual realm. Every shot in “This Is America” is nuanced and offers up a ridiculous amount of elements to dissect, some with multiple meanings. The layering in the clip is absolutely staggering and suggests that Childish Gambino, after an erratic run, has found a voice in its twilight days. If this is how the project goes out, it’ll have been more than worth the journey.
Angelella’s “Red State”, an exceedingly clever bit of basement pop, was recently featured on this site and effectively set the tone for Road Movie. All of Angelella’s work as a multifaceted songwriter and musician come into play on Road Movie, showcasing the kind of talent that’s only obtained by the kind of well-rounded journeyman who have spent as much time in the DIY punk and bedroom pop circles as the top 40 pop and rap side of the music world.
Road Movie, understandably, is far more modest than the works of Angelella’s more high-profile collaborators (Kendrick Lamar, Tinashe, and Lil B, among others, have benefited from his contributions as a session musician) and much more in line with the bands that have counted — or currently count — him as a member (Hop Along, Lithuania, Cold Fronts, and mewithoutyou all belonging to that group). Introspective and freewheeling, Road Movie is a deceptively polished work from a master songwriter, someone that’s earned a deepened understanding of their craft.
Breezy, well-paced, never too flashy, full of whip-smart turns of phrases, smart compositions, and an easygoing charisma, Road Movie is the kind of record that entices the listener to keep exploring. It’s a multi-layered work, for all its low-key charm, that strengthens in ratio with the investment its granted. A perfect soundtrack for the warmer seasons, Road Movie is the kind of small gem that always deserves to be heard.
Heartbreaking Bravery 