Earlier this year, Ben Morey and Katie Preston broke ground on Dreaming Out Loud, an intimate live performance series for this site. Watching the two of them together made it clear that, no matter the future of this site’s editorial content, this was a series that needed to continue. Before too long, a few more appearances had been booked, including one from a man whose music has meant a lot to me over the course of this decade: Patrick Jennings.
Whether playing as a solo artist, with Middle Children, with PURPLE 7, or with Hot New Mexicans, Jennings has proved to have an innate sense of humility, honesty, and conviction. He’s been a crucial part of several of my favorite albums and songs of the past 13+ years and it was an honor to play host. Regrettably, both of my SD cards for my usual camera went haywire, leading to an impromptu iPhone filming session, making editing next to impossible. On the other hand, the raw, uncut nature of this volume of Dreaming Out Loud speaks to Jennings’ work as an artist, cat’s meows and all. A worthy trade-off.
During the filming, Jennings gave me the opportunity to pick the set list, leaving me frozen. If I’d taken that offer in full, Jennings and the band he had in tow would’ve missed their show that night by a few hours. Instead of requesting about four album’s worth of songs, he provided the courtesy of a three-song set spanning his discography. A new solo track, a Purple 7 gem, and the opener off Hot New Mexicans’ debut album, It’s Called Leaning Back. One full band, two in true solo acoustic fashion. Opting to kneel rather than sit, Jennings and co. provided a brief, mesmerizing run through one of the most remarkable catalogs in DIY punk.
Editor’s Note: This post is one of several that were scheduled to go live several months ago but never went through. Rather than let these posts die an undignified death, they appear today in their original, unaltered forms.
Majical Cloudz’s demise had some deeply regrettable mitigating factors that made their exit a necessity, for everyone. Fortunately, the voice that anchored that project never completely left. Devon Welsh’s presence on that group’s work was overwhelming, a trait that’s translated seamlessly to the artist’s solo work. “War” is another in a string of gripping triumphs from Welsh, who seems to be partially addressing his old band’s departure on this track, which arrives with an accompanying music video crafted by Welsh himself, in collaboration with Nika.
The duo make the wise decision to key in on Welsh’s trademark unblinking, bug-eyed intensity. The entirety of “War” is a crisp. static black-and-white one shot of Welsh navigating the song’s vocals, trembling violently throughout. There’s a level of spirituality present at this level of confrontation and it makes the watch more than a little disorienting but there’s also something intrinsically honest and even brave about Welsh’s performance that makes “War” impossible to turn off. It’s a work of jaw-dropping commitment that creates a cumulative effect that reverberates long after the clip’s final frame. Hard to ignore and harder to forget, “War” is a startling reminder of the humanity that’s in the root of all great art.
Watch “War” below and keep an eye on this page for further updates on any upcoming releases.
Editor’s Note: This post is one of several that were scheduled to go live several months ago but never went through. Rather than let these posts die an undignified death, they appear today in their original, unaltered forms.
For the past few years, Fire Talk has been building a reputation as one of the most consistently excellent labels in post-punk and beyond, headlined by artists like Deeper, Patio, and Dehd. On occasion, the label will branch out to more Americana-leaning territory and grab up an artist that fits their vision. Campfires was one of those acquisitions and the project more than proves their worth with the jangly, rollicking “I’ll Go Home”. Mid-fi production and a lot of treble bite shine through on the track, which recalls Rolling Blackouts Coastal Fever at their scrappiest. Finding extra life in a hungover bonfire haze, “I’ll Go Home” is a relatively quiet but pointed delight, signaling great things to come from Campfires. Keep an eye on this one.
Listen to “I’ll Go Home” below and pre-order Fare Trax from Fire Talk here.
Editor’s Note: This post is one of several that were scheduled to go live several months ago but never went through. Rather than let these posts die an undignified death, they appear today in their original, unaltered forms.
Nathan Tucker’s Cool Original project, through all its permutations, has earned quite a bit of love from this site. Nothing the project’s accomplished so far matches the scope of what’s achieved on I Never Said I Didn’t Care, a towering testament to personal and artistic growth. A little sludge, a lot of pop, and a fair share of basement punk coalesce into something that’s gripping from the outset and progressively more engaging as the record’s values become clear.
Towering in a peculiarly unassuming way, I Never Said I Didn’t Care finds Tucker and company cranking up the volume and confronting some harsh truths head on with a clear-eyed resolve (the “we don’t want the same things” realization in “Offended” is equal parts heartbreaking and emboldening). While the thematic through-line doesn’t shy away from complication, the composition that sustains I Never Said I Didn’t Care is some of the project’s most fierce and direct.
As the record progresses, Cool Original embrace a ramshackle existence and then blow it to smithereens in favor of something more subtle and rewarding: self-acceptance. In this case, that self is one keenly aware of hangups and has a penchant for larger-than-life distortion-heavy anthems that pay tribute to resilience. Inspired and inspiring, I Never Said I Didn’t Care makes its title abundantly clear in just about every way: this is a record that cares, deeply, about everything- and the record’s all the better for indulging in that trait. A high water mark for one of today’s most consistently excellent projects. Don’t let the year end without grabbing a copy.
Listen to I Never Said I Didn’t Care below and pick it up here.
Editor’s Note: This post is one of several that were scheduled to go live several months ago but never went through. Rather than let these posts die an undignified death, they appear today in their original, unaltered forms.
Shutups have consistently impressed over the years, slowly expanding their audience from one show to the next. Even with some strong efforts to their name, it’d be hard to predict the extent of the artistic jump the band takes for their most recent full-length, Every Day I’m Less Zen. Everything on this record clicks, working in tandem with even the most minuscule detail to produce an incredibly inspired end result. From the crackling, gloriousy blown-out production to the thematic consistency to the pacing, this is a complete — and completely realized — work.
“that’s a long time to be on fire” starts things off at a blind sprint and the band never really looks back from that point, barreling forward with a reckless disregard for whatever’s in their path. As energized as it is energizing, this is basement punk of the highest order. Whenever the band does scale back a little, their pop sensibilities shine through and give Every Day I’m Less Zen an addictive gleam that ensures repeat listens. Surprisingly thoughtful in its ruminations on a very specific sliver of young adulthood and its various drawbacks and rewards, this is a borderline definitive record for a certain type of person.
While Every Day I’m Less Zen makes its bones on no-holds-barred aggression, Shutups manage to sprinkle in a few surprises that keep the affair from being an exercise in exhaustion. Whether it’s the glitch-pop of the intro to “Telephone” or the synth-laden haze of “Holiday Punch”, Shutups keep thriving by adding new, wrinkled layers to an enticing core. By the time the mind-scrambling closer “I Wanna Crash Cars” rolls around, Shutups have provided an entire world to get lost inside, to revisit, to fall in love with, and to leave behind. An extraordinary work from a duo worth knowing, Every Day I’m Less Zen stands firmly as one of the stronger basement punk records not just the year but the present decade. Take a deep breath, make the click-play plunge, and get swept up in its nuanced chaos.
Editor’s Note: This post is one of several that were scheduled to go live several months ago but never went through. Rather than let these posts die an undignified death, they appear today in their original, unaltered forms.
One of the many privileges of being a music listener is latching onto a band that never stops improving as they evolve. Thus far, Strange Ranger fits that bill to a tee. “Message to You”, the band’s latest track, is a smoky, bruised ballad teeming with urgency and regret. Flickering away under a proto-industrial backbeat, “Message to You” floats along, driven by some understated synth work and a melancholic piano figure. A gorgeous bass line that turns menacing in the song’s latter half ensure “Message to You” is a legitimate standout, not just for the band but for 2019. Easily Strange Ranger’s most fascinating composition to date, the song also heralds their arrival as an act that’s made the jump from being a promising band to being a capital-A Artist. An astonishing work.
Listen to “Message To You” below and pre-order Remembering The Rocket from Tiny Engines here.
Editor’s Note: This post is one of several that were scheduled to go live several months ago but never went through. Rather than let these posts die an undignified death, they appear today in their original, unaltered forms.
Richard Spitzer’s “Synthesizer” was an utterly winsome track that’s held serve as one of 2019’s finest bits of folk-leaning music. The songwriter’s returned with the blackly comic “Russia Collusion” that takes the comparisons Spitzer earned to worthy contemporary songwriters and delves further, reaching back to shared influences like Randy Newman, Harry Nilsson, and anyone else who wasn’t afraid to add left-field comic surrealism to their satire.
At first, Spitzer plays it straight, ostensibly falling into the trap that turns so much protest music so unbearably kitschy so quickly. Trump gets name-checked, “Russia Collusion” is used as a constant hook, and the tone seems sincere. The charade wavers in the first verse as Spitzer contrasts the mundanity of everyday existence to the constant distraction offered by political commentary and today’s clusterfuck of a landscape. The second verse finds Spitzer getting a little more serious and the straight-man schtick gains a little bit of life, while a bouncy melody keeps things from falling into an undying trope.
…And then the side-splitting final verse hits. I fully lost it at the song’s final reveal, which features spoken-word declarations of “Racism!”, “Wealth Inequality”, and “poverty” to play against the repeated insistence of “Russia Collusion”, which all leads up to a final societal tragedy that had me in literal tears, which I will not spoil here. In all, Spitzer’s proving to be a singular talent whose arriving at a time when things this brash, thoughtful, and unexpectedly lovely are both necessary and deeply appreciated. Don’t miss out on this one and keep an eye on Spitzer, who’s now responsible for two of the year’s strongest and most unassuming folk-adjacent oddities.
Listen to “Russia Collusion” below and keep an eye on this site for further updates on Spitzer’s upcoming self-titled record, which is due out July 19.
Editor’s Note: This post is one of several that were scheduled to go live several months ago but never went through. Rather than let these posts die an undignified death, they appear today in their original, unaltered forms.
“Lifesucker” starts off in a way that mirrors countless indie pop songs that have come before it and undoubtedly will continue to start after the song’s release. There’s nothing wrong or overly consequential with adhering to a loved formula but, in this case, the familiarity acts as a rug- and that rug gets pulled before too long. A clever guitar riff and an interlocking bass line dance with each other, while a shuffling snare pushes the song’s momentum forward. Some bells add a splash of color and before long, the indie pop sensibility gets morphed into post-punk. And then the chorus hits.
A gloriously unexpected, woozy, towering, psych-inflected burst of kaleidoscopic melody all but consumes “Lifesucker”, breathing further strength into both its verse sections and the song as a whole. Surprisingly thrilling, that screwball section takes a strong track and turns it into something that’s not just great but something that’s memorable. Perfect for summer and fully equipped to hold up on many, many repeat visits “Lifesucker” is a miraculous track that’ll hopefully carve out some more recognition for Lofi Legs, who are flexing the kind of ambition that leads to longevity.
Listen to “Lifesucker” below and download it here.
In the mid-2000’s, Yoni Wolf decided to turn a solo pseudonym into a full band and WHY? set off on charting one of the most fascinating career paths of any band in recent memory. After that 2004 turning point, WHY? would release what are widely, but quietly, hailed as classics in Elephant Eyelashand Alopecia, two chameleon-esque records that veer in and out of hip-hop, folk, indie rock, alt-pop, ambient, and a long list of other genres.
A dedicated fanbase sprang up in the wake of those two releases, prompting investigations into the group-specific slang that dominated Wolf’s lyrics. People forged intense, meaningful relationship with the work on display, which felt so offbeat yet intensely personal. “Suicide notes” was a phrase that was tossed around when it came to dissecting the band’s narratives, sometimes sung, sometimes rapped, sometimes whispered, and the hypnotically kaleidoscopic music behind those words elevated them further to an extent that came off as genuinely inspired.
Past those two releases, the band took on a few new forms and shapes, which unsurprisingly drew waves of conflicting opinions between the project’s most faithful listeners. Eskimo Snow, one of the band’s most gorgeously arranged and beautifully produced records, gave some fans pause as it found the band embracing their quietest sensibilities. The fans who loved that record, in turn, were thrown ajar by the band’s subsequent works which largely skewed more confrontational and abrasive, yet no one seemed to want to stop listening to any of it altogether.
Some EP’s, LP’s, and one-off’s after their attention-ensnaring run of early material, the band have arrived at AOKOHIO, which they’ve unveiled by parcel through video sequences that tackle the forthcoming record sequentially. While movements I and II were both fascinating in their own right, it’s movement III, Please take me home, I don’t belong here., that did the most damage.
Ostensibly, Please take me home, I don’t belong here., serves as somewhat of an open-hearted love letter to Wolf’s brother and extraordinarily gifted bandmate Josiah, whose contributions to WHY?’s instrumental template over the years have proved invaluable. Additionally, this run of songs also seems to be a half-buried plea for self-preservation. Miles Joris-Peyrafitte serves as the director and elevates each note with the type of grace and sensitivity that the subject matter deserves, turning the entire affair into a spellbinding treatsie on the nature of life, emphasizing its finite nature to an extraordinary degree without ever becoming hamfisted.
“The Launch”, “High Dive”, “Mr. Fifth’s Plea”, and “Good Fire” are the songs that are covered in the movement and each exemplifies the best qualities of WHY?, drawing directly from the past to shape their present. Please take me home, I don’t belong here.understands that relationship and navigates it deftly, allowing the clip’s subtext to suggest that beyond extending Wolf’s continued fatalistic obsessions, the end results can be boiled down to the micro and applied to the history of the band.
Footage of Wolf miming along to the song alone in a chair are interspersed with unearthed home movies of the Wolf brothers as young children, flooding the clip with the type of tenderness that so often bleeds into shattering emotional recognition. And sure enough, by the time the sequence comes to a close, it’s difficult not to be fighting back some stray tears. More than just being exceptionally well-crafted and executed, Please take me home, I don’t belong here. feels important; the product of a mind that’s always had too much to say to make room for the truths that too often go unsaid.
Gripping, tense, and deeply empathetic, Please take me home, I don’t belong here. stands firm as one of 2019’s most unexpected gut-punches. A devastating reminder of WHY?’s commitment to not only exploring their own artistry but the nature of humanity, dropping the sardonic wit that’s so often accompanied their incisive past self-examinations to simply lay every card on the table, look up, and allow something in that’s rarely appeared throughout their discography: hope.
Watch “Please take me home, I don’t belong here.” below and pre-order AOKOHIO here.
For years, Young Guv has been experiencing a steady uptick in public recognition. Like so many other artists that get covered here it’s not necessarily due to something like touring harder or being more prolific in terms of releases (in addition to that music both competing and benefiting from existing in the shadow of a wide umbrella), it’s more a matter of an audience catching up to the quality of an artist’s music All that said, the Ben Cook — who also plays guitar in Fucked Up — project’s also quietly improved over its run, an aspect that’s readily apparent on Young Guv’s most recent offerings: “Roll With Me” and “Every Flower I See”.
One feels like a spiritual brother to Rolling Blackouts C.F, the other, Mike Krol. Both come stamped with Cook’s signature vocal tic, which manages the difficult trick of sounding simultaneously weary and completely energized. Both tracks are easy to fall in love with, exuding the kind of charm that characterized acts like Archers of Loaf and Superchunk in their early breakout moments. Every second, no matter which way the genre influences lean, proves winsome, and Cook further solidifies his place among today’s emerging songwriters. “Roll With Me” and “Every Flower I See” both offer up an early look at Cook’s forthcoming Guv I, which could be mentioned on this site come December if the rest of its anywhere close to this good. Don’t miss this one.
Listen to “Roll With Me” and “Every Flower I See” below and pre-order Guv I from Run For Cover here.
Heartbreaking Bravery 