2015 | Heartbreaking Bravery

February 10, 2016

2015: A Year’s Worth of Memories (Cole Kinsler)

cole

Several of this year’s contributors have mourned the loss of Krill, celebrating their legacy along the way. A handful have run and a handful remain unpublished. The band’s dissolution was an event that had an effect on a lot of this site’s readers and writers that was as powerful as the music they left behind. For the latest eulogy, returning contributor Cole Kinsler offers up some of his thoughts on the band’s role in his life. From developing his songwriting (Kinsler’s the creative force behind the excellent Space Mountain) to his musical community, the band’s significance — both on a broad level and on a personal level — remains undeniable. Read his piece below and remember to celebrate meaningful artists.

Saying Goodbye to Krill

I had a feeling that a lot of contributors in this series would be pining over the loss of Krill, but for good reason. Krill managed to become a really important thing to a lot of folks within a few years’ time. While reflecting on the year, I realized that their break-up was probably the most significant music-related event for me as well. They were the first band I got into when I moved to Boston in 2013, so they hold a special place in my heart. I’m gonna miss ’em.

Krill’s music hinged on oppositions that worked in really exciting ways for me. Lyrics are often challenging but also overtly approachable. Songwriting is crooked and catchy. Krill albums are immediately relatable, but also deeply rewarding upon further listens. Many fans, including myself, found catharsis through the stories told in Krill songs. I think the band also fostered a strong sense of community within the Boston scene, even if they didn’t realize that was happening. They had a down-to-earth attitude as a band that a lot of people found refreshing.

These sentiments culminated in their final shows. Although they were solemn gatherings, the prevailing feelings were certainly of celebration and pride. Krill’s presence in Boston made the town feel a little more special. I’ll definitely be listening to their albums and subconsciously ripping off their music for many years to come.

-Cole Kinsler

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February 9, 2016

2015: A Year’s Worth of Memories (John Rossiter)

Young Jesus

Ever since the year of its release, I’ve been confidently referring to Young Jesus‘ staggering Home as an untouchable masterpiece. In the time that’s followed since its release, the band relocated from Chicago to Los Angeles, shifting its core lineup in the process. Guitarist/vocalist and principal songwriter John Rossiter (pictured above, bottom left), remained the band’s driving force. Last year, the band released the outstanding Grow/Decompose — one of my favorite releases of the year — a record that I was very fortunate to be running premieres for in the lead-up to its unveiling. Towards the end of 2015, they swung through Wisconsin and delivered a set that left me absolutely floored. I met Rossiter for the first time that night and we exchanged road stories before parting ways. From that meeting alone, it was readily apparent that he was a genuine, kind person in addition to being an obscenely gifted songwriter. Those are just a few of the reasons that I’m thrilled to be bringing him into the fold of this series. Here, he recounts a show Young Jesus played in Gardena that left a lasting impression on more than one person. Read it below and stay safe in the pit.

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Gardena Utopia House Show

In early summer, I played a pretty fun set, lots of teens and SoCal punk dads hanging in this backyard in Gardena. While I was having a drink by the hot tub (cover on), a dude who must have been fourteen said, “you drink beer? Nice. I can’t wait til I have a beer today, haven’t had one since yesterday.” Which reminded me SO MUCH of being an awkward 14 year old trying to fit in I really felt an immense sense of empathy and joy.

The kids passing around the Svedka bottle intermittently making out, the mohawk’d kid with the Crass patch sewn on (in response to a punk dad asking, “nice patch, but what are you doing for change?” The kid says “EVERYTHING“). All the bands we’re introduced by a couple of adorable and shy 6 year olds. Somewhere between a house show and a suburban barbecue. Chips and guac. So many dogs on the grill. Dad going up to the mic saying “I got extra dogs up here if anyone wants more.”

The locals, this cool Cap’n Jazz/Do Make Say Think-sounding band Cotton Ships, closed the show, sun just went down, summertime in Los Angeles. People we’re psyched, some moshing, more making out, smoking cigs. Really idyllic movie start of summer high school/college hangs. Total romance/bliss.

For their closer/encore the band breaks into a super heavy rap-metal cover and immediately EVERYONE starts moshing. We’re just in total shock, all smiles. Eric (our keyboard player) flies into the pit looking like some indie Cosmo Kramer/Eric Wareheim combo bouncing around laughing hysterically. The mosh kinda breaks apart when a bunch of people fall down. The music stops. One kid is just lying on the ground repeating “ohmygod/ohmygod/ohmygod.” Some other kid walks away saying, “I’m gonna throw up, I SAW THE BONE DUDE!” The injured party looks at our guitar player and yells “THERE IS NO GOD!”

Kid had broken his leg, a decidedly cool ass way to start your summer.

The kid and his leg are fine. Saw him a month ago at our show at The Smell. Very sweet guy and absolutely confidently bipedal again. Not sure if he knows how rad I think his Gardena scene is. How perfect that night was. It’s rare to go back in time for a moment, glad I got to live in that Gardena Utopia Doghouse though.

-John Rossiter

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February 9, 2016

2015: A Year’s Worth of Memories (Chris Sutter)

meatwave

Very few bands have meant as much to me as Meat Wave, who I’ve written about over and over on this site and in other corners of the music world. Their self-titled debut remains one of my favorite records of all time and is still the only cassette that I’ve listened to so much that some sections of it are damaged (a modest estimate would put the number of plays at over 200). In 2014, they played the first Heartbreaking Bravery Presents showcase (their set that night remains one of the most meaningful moments I’ve experienced in music) and I got to know them as individuals a little better, which, on a personal level, made their 2015 run feel even more celebratory. Last year, they signed to SideOneDummy, released one of the best records of the year, one of the best compilation EP’s of the year, and toured the world. They made their name known but retained their humility. Here, guitarist/vocalist and principal songwriter Chris Sutter takes a look at an extended moment he experienced with Drive Like Jehu at the Denver Riot Fest stop that reminded him of the importance of music. Read it below and remember to hold onto the moments where everything clicks into place.

2015 was the craziest year of my life. The epitome of bittersweet. Life is very mystifying. I’m half-trying to figure out how it all works, half-trying not to disturb it and let it do its thing. The latter has worked out for me more thus far. What makes us all so drawn to or obsessed with music? Or anything for that matter? And how is it that music has provided me with so many amazing opportunities and experiences? I think that you can’t expect anything from it, and in that it presents things to you. That’s how it works in the Meat Wave camp, keep your expectations very low and usually it’s a lot better than what you thought it’d be.

Before the year began, we more or less agreed that we would focus more than ever on traveling, touring and playing well. Because why the fuck not? Yolo. So that’s basically what we did. We released an album in September. We toured the UK and Europe three times(!). We went to fucking Iceland. Toured the US and Canada. We got a beer and a sandwich named after us. We saw so many bands we respect and love. Met so many amazing people. Basically, if we did this, it’s proof that literally anyone can do whatever the fuck they want if they work hard, sometimes make some sacrifices and just really want to do it. We are the luckiest people. Purely. Undeserving, really.

In late August, we drove to Denver, Colorado to play Riot Fest. A mixed bag of bands and artists, with some real gems thrown in. We had no idea how people would respond to us, whether we’d get a good slot, etc. (remember, low expectations). We made a long weekend out of it and brought our friends Andrew and Jonathan with us, which sweetened the deal so much more cause they’re the best. Upon traveling to the fest we were informed that we’d be opening up one of the main stages, essentially opening for Drive Like Jehu and the Pixies, two of my favorite bands ever. Fuck.

That morning we arrived we were golf carted by our liaison to the stage to soundcheck (this never happens). It was the most gorgeous summer morning, a cool breeze mixed with hot-ass sun rays beating down. The fest took place in an open-air arena/jumbo parking lot where they do rodeos. As soon as we got to the stage we realized we were surrounded by all the Pixies gear and they had just soundchecked (WTF).

A couple hours later we played, real early in the afternoon. T’was good. The rest of the day proved to be really bizarre and fun. I was just kind of geeking out the entire time. “Oh shit, there’s the motherfucking GZA eating” or “Captain Sensible just came in to our dressing room (never happens either) and woke Joe up to give him a beer.” We met Andrew W.K. We got up so close to see Iggy Pop, suddenly I turn around to see Thurston Moore, excited as I am, both of us taking pictures of Iggy and his leathery-ass chest. We saw the Pixies, Modest Mouse, Bootsy Collins, Dead Milkmen, Tenacious D, and Snoop Dogg that night. But nothing compares to Drive Like Jehu.

I thought I’d never in my life be able to see Drive Like Jehu. Those guys’ bands influenced me so incredibly much. Just the epitome of badassery. So at the risk of seeming like greedy little snobs, we asked the super generous stage manager Keith if we could get on the side of the stage for Jehu, to which he obliged. So there we were, on the side of the stage as the sun was setting watching Drive Like Jehu expertly put everyone to shame. Tear-inducing. Pure power.

About midway during their set, I look over and there’s fucking Jack Black standing right next to us watching Jehu. WTF. How did we get here? I drunkenly and idiotically said hi to Jack Black. He gave me a thumbs up. But seeing Drive Like Jehu that night was life-affirming. Throughout the year, I’d been wrestling with the prospect of putting so much time into music and sacrificing a lot to do it. Is it worth it? Is it too self-indulgent? What about my future? But it is this moment in seeing Drive Like Jehu and many other moments over the course of the year that slapped me in my dumb face and clearly stated “yes, this is right. Nothing else matters if you have a deep love for something.” Very cheesy, but actually true as hell.

It’s proof of not only music’s, but life’s mystical powers. We’re just huge fans and nerds and students of music, and in that found ourselves surrounded by so many people we had respected and loved for years. It’s given us the opportunity to play to and meet amazing people all over the place; the restoration of my faith in humanity! 2015 kept reminding me of this and how lucky we all are to be able to share and experience in this era of art and music.

-Chris Sutter

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February 8, 2016

2015: A Year’s Worth of Memories (Jamie Coletta)

One of the people that I bonded with the most over a sheer love of music was SideOneDummy‘s publicity genius, Jamie Coletta. Connecting over everything from our incredibly extensive appreciation for Meat Wave to things as trivial as The Office’s use of silence, it’s been a joy to get to know her over the past year. The world could stand to use more people with her levels of passion and understanding. Having just run David Anthony’s piece on Coletta, it felt appropriate to run her piece for this series next. Here, she reflects on becoming Microwave‘s manager and her appreciation for her family. Read it below and continue pursuing the things worthy of your unfettered belief.

Taking Chances

Last year, with the help of Brian Kraus at Alternative Press, I stumbled upon a band from Atlanta, GA called Microwave. All it took was one night and a gram of California’s finest for me to fall completely in love with their debut album Stovall. I remember sitting on my bed, stoned to oblivion, realizing I had just listened to the entire album without stopping once. You guys realize how terrible most bands early/self-releases sound, right? Usually you get through a couple songs and keep their name in the ether of your memory but that’s about it. You never listen to the whole thing without skipping. That’s just ludicrous.

Well that night, I did.

I immediately scoured the internet assuming I’d find one of my A&R peers already on the case, but as you likely know the end of this story since I’ve told it about a million times, I found nothing. I started talking to them casually a few weeks later (truth be told, it was a conversation about The Office that sealed the deal) and before you knew it, we were family. They performed on Audiotree Live in December of 2014. Up until then, things seemed to be moving at a normal pace for a band of their size, but once the Audiotree session went live, everything changed.

All the labels and managers I thought would have initially been interested started calling, and I encouraged the band to feel out all of their options. I knew I wanted to sign them to SideOneDummy but wanted to make sure they felt comfortable before making a decision. At that point, I had never even considered managing a band before. The idea was just so far from my brain.

I met Microwave at SXSW in Austin, TX in March of 2015. We met the first day I arrived and spent every single day of the festival together. I’ve met a lot of people in my life but never have I clicked with a group of people as fast as I did with these guys. That week ended up being crucial in our future as a team. They locked in their booking agents and we started talking about bigger picture goals together.

Before we parted ways, it was like we all just knew. Still, I hadn’t even muttered the words “manager” yet. I sat in the airport waiting for my flight to depart when a manager friend of mine called to ask about their situation. It was the light bulb I needed. After reflecting on that week together and re-listening to Stovall another couple hundred times, I brought it up with the guys and that was that. The adventure of my life began.

Since then, I obviously signed Microwave to SideOneDummy Records. I worked with them to release a split 12’’ with a band from Buffalo, NY called Head North, their first proper release on the label. I also confirmed their first full US support tour with Have Mercy, Transit, and Somos. By the end of 2015, I locked in what will be their biggest touring opportunity to date, supporting The Wonder Years and letlive. this spring.

If you had told me a year ago today that I would start managing a band and help propel them towards this kind of success by years end, I wouldn’t have believed you. This whole process has taught me the importance of stepping outside of your comfort zone, and I can’t wait to step even farther with these guys in 2016.

Feeling Whole Again

Let me preface this by saying that my family has always been incredibly supportive of me and my endeavors. While at times, especially the beginning, I’m sure they felt skeptic and fearful as I boarded a one-way plane to Los Angeles to work in the “music business” with “punk bands,” they’ve always shown extreme pride and enthusiasm for the life I have built here. But this year, two of them in particular stood out to me in their unwavering display of support.

My brother is four years younger than I am, studying to be a physician’s assistant, and lives in Coventry, Rhode Island. He has two fantastic dogs, a Siberian Husky named Luca (yes, he named his dog after a Brand New song) and a White German Shepherd named Jet (okay, to be fair, this is my mom’s dog but my brother moved and couldn’t bare to separate him from his best friend, Luca). He’s almost as obsessed with The Office as I am, which makes for the easiest gift-giving process of all time.

Like the rest of my family, my brother has always been supportive but this past year, he really took it up a notch. He joined the SideOneDummy Vinyl Club, pre-ordered records (even bought multiple variants of some), stopped into his local record store to check for our releases, and decorated his home with some of his favorite S1D releases. I can’t really explain why but this has had a profound effect on me this year. Every time our warehouse manager would tell me something like “Jamie, your brother just bought two flags and another Microwave variant,” I felt whole.

My sister is two years older than I am, works in social media marketing, and lives in Seattle, WA. She has an incredible wanderlust, having traveled all over Europe and about to embark on a three week solo adventure to Australia and New Zealand. For all intensive purposes, she is my polar opposite in life. As we grew up, we started to notice our characteristic differences, and at times we let it get the best of our relationship. But today, as adults, we find our common ground and a lot of times, it’s music.

My sister almost never misses a SideOneDummy band when they come through Seattle. She’s even gone to see bands she barely knows. She lets them sleep on her floor and get bitten by her dog. My bands are like extensions of my family. They’re my best friends. So whenever I would get a text from her with a photo of them on stage, or hear from them saying that she was super cool and welcoming, I felt connected.

You see, I have this picture (see: the photograph at the top of the page). I’ve kept it in my wallet for years. There’s my older sister (left) and I with our baby brother. I grab it at times when I feel scared, alone, homesick, nostalgic. I hold it in my hand all folded up and squeeze it tight. That picture makes me feel whole. It takes me back to a time of innocence, a time where even if things may not have been so great, it didn’t matter. I had them and we had each other. When you live 3,000 miles away from your family, it’s these little moments I hold onto the most. So sure, my brother simply buys stuff from the record label I work for and my sister steps over sweaty dudes to get her coffee. To anyone else, this may mean nothing. To me, we’re back in that picture again, arm-in-arm, without a care in the world.

-Jamie Coletta

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February 7, 2016

2015: A Year’s Worth of Memories (Bella Mazzetti)

Jawbreaker Reunion III

Back in 2014, Jawbreaker Reunion‘s unbelievable Lutheran Sisterhood Gun Club secured an impressive ranking on this site’s year-end list and landed “E.M.O.” (a song that can still manage to elicit chills after innumerable listens) in the songs list. In 2015, they secured a spot on the odds and ends list for their memorable split with PWR BTTM. This year, while still young, they’ve landed another potential year-end list contender with the extraordinary “Cosmos“, which is even more impressive considering they recently downsized to a trio following Tom Delaney’s departure. Bella Mazzetti, who has handled guitar, bass, and vocal duties for the band, is one of their driving creative forces. Last year I was fortunate enough to see Mazzetti play a few shows and take in a few shows as well. Below, she lays out the soundtrack of her 2015, month by month, pairing it with important life events. Read it below, listen along (bonus points if you can complete the seemingly impossible task of finding the stream for Flower Housewife’s “Hampton”), and then make your own soundtrack as 2016 pushes forward.

My 2015 Musical Calendar

Here is a list of songs, new and old, that defined my year.

January, “Party in the USA” by Miley Cyrus

The sound of dancing on a hardwood floor in Philadelphia. The sound of a flat tire on the way home.

February, “Know Yourself” by Drake

Sounds like releasing a split, celebrating Valentine’s Day, pretending to be happy about it. Getting pulled over in -10 degree weather to change a headlight and feeling an overwhelming sense of love for my bandmates.

March, “Puddle of Love” by The Bottom

Running away to basement shows in other towns. Meeting new people, making new friends, seeing old friends. Singing on stage with Eskimeaux and dancing my butt off to Crying.

April, “Broken Necks” by Eskimeaux

Crying in my carrel while listening to this song, breaking up, figuring out how to be my own person. Finishing and handing in a 90 page thesis, seeing Paul Baribeau with my best friends on that same day.

May, “sad cartoons” by No Friends

Celebrating my 22nd birthday by listening to this No Friends album and drinking in the sun. Being Taking Back Sunday for Punk Rock Prom and meeting someone new. Graduating from college. Fuck.

June, “Parking Lot Palms” by IJI

Sounds like playing the Northside showcase for Miscreant Records, driving all around the mid-Hudson valley. Breaking my tailbone while hiking.

July, “Be Your Own 3 AM” by Adult Mom

Being bed-ridden for the whole month and watching all of Glee. Being brought cupcakes and nursed back to health but still trying not to catch feelings.

August, “Better than Anything Else” by Paul Baribeau

Sounds like trying to record an album and playing shows in Brooklyn. Driving home from the city and listening to this song. Changing my mind.

September, “Hampton” by Flower Housewife

Sounds like a new band line up. Starting a new job, becoming friends with this artist and then joining their band. Driving through new towns.

October, “Keeping Up” by Arthur Russell

Spontaneity. Driving to the city to see the Double Double Whammy CMJ showcase. Booking Meredith Graves to talk about restorative justice at Bard. Making plans. Spending Halloween drunk in Asbury Park with my best friends. Screaming Females covering X.

November, “You Are What Eats You” by Palm

Saying “I love you.” Actually recording an album. Playing with All Dogs and Long Beard. Feeling good about making music with people I care about.

December, “Time, As a Symptom” by Joanna Newsom

Seeing Joanna Newsom play this in Philadelphia. Preparing for JBR’s first tour. Dr. Lady. The best dang New Year’s kiss in the world. Looking back at the year that brought good and profound change. Thanks for sharing it.

-Bella Mazzetti

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February 7, 2016

2015: A Year’s Worth of Memories (Amanda Dissinger)

Photograph by Dean Stafford

I don’t actually remember how I first met Amanda Dissinger but I’ve become increasingly grateful for that moment. Ever since that initial introduction, she’s been ceaselessly supportive of just about everything I’ve decided to do and has been a constant voice of reason. It’s why whenever I travel, I take the gorgeous collection of poetry she released last year, This Is How I Will Tell You I Love You, with me as a road companion. We call each other “the best” in an eternal loop with no trace of irony. If she sends me a promotional email for one of the several artists she does publicity for at Terrorbird Media, there’s a decent chance it’ll just devolve into a long string of short email blasts about what’s happening in our lives. For a very brief time, we shared door duties at Baby’s All Right and allowed ourselves to be inspired by the surroundings it offered. Not just one of my favorite authors but one of my absolute favorite people, it’s an honor to be hosting her writing on this site. Below, she tackles a night with Dilly Dally and Julien Baker that rekindled her love for the city where she resides. Read it below and then find a reason to celebrate your own surroundings.

2015 was a weird year for me. I wrote a book, fell in love, moved to a new apartment, recovered from a weird mysterious muscle illness, and got to work with many rad bands in my full time job. I made new friends, I lost friends, I traveled all over the country, etc. etc. Though it may sound cliché, music is mostly what got me through it all. This year, I got to see some of my very favorite acts in the whole world- from my high school loves Death Cab for Cutie, new favorites like Weaves, and dozens of amazing bands that I do press for from Heaters to Total Makeover to Keeps, and friends’ bands like Big Ups and Charly Bliss.

I got to travel to Toronto for NXNE (by myself) and become immersed in the awesome scene there that’s spearheaded by the amazing Buzz Records and bands like Odonis Odonis, Greys, and Dilly Dally (more on them later). I went with coworkers to Raleigh, NC for Hopscotch Festival and while I had no expectations going in about the town, I became enamored with it, and with its diverse venues and friendly natives. I fell head over heels for Austin, TX and the lively music scene there, encouraged by my boyfriend, a wonderful musician, and the venues he frequents- Cheer Up Charlies, The Mohawk, and Barbarella (for dancing to ’80s music only).

However, this year in music can be best summed up by one cold night in November, when I got to see two of my favorite new artists perform in a back-to-back marathon concert night. In 2015, all of my favorite albums were released by females or female-fronted bands. I loved Carly Rae Jepsen’s whimsical Emotion, the ass-kicking albums by Bully, All Dogs, and Hop Along, and the catchy-as-hell releases from Bad Bad Hats and Laura Stevenson. Above all though, two albums that represented the polarity of my feelings — and the two that I loved the most — were Julien Baker’s Sprained Ankle (representing my vulnerable, emotional and nostalgic self) and Dilly Dally’s blistering, raucous Sore, showcasing the assertive, in-your-face person that I aspire to be.

Miraculously, I got to see four of the artists that made my favorite albums in one week in November in a way that only New York sometimes operates- Tuesday: Bad Bad Hats at Baby’s All Right, Wednesday: Carly Rae Jepsen at Irving Plaza, and Saturday: Dilly Dally at Baby’s, followed by Julien Baker at Mercury Lounge. Though I was recovering from a gnarly cold that week, I still absolutely 100% needed to run around like a chicken with my head cut off and see both of these artists responsible for music that touched me so deeply.

Before that night, I had seen Dilly Dally about three times since 2013. My friends in Toronto who run the aforementioned Buzz Records release constantly hypnotizing and brave music from incredible bands (like all the ones I mentioned above- Weaves, Greys, Odonis and Odonis, as well as bands like The Beverleys, HSY, and so many more). They are all smart, incredibly nice and wonderful people. They’re also my favorite label and everything they touch turns to gold.

By now most people have heard the thrilling ’90s tinged Sore, and I’ve probably listened to it about 1000 times since its release in October. I was thrilled to see a headlining set from them after the album release, especially since I only caught a bit of them at CMJ at like 1am at Santos Party House. At Baby’s, they were at their best, impressing the really large and enthralled crowd who packed the small, sweaty room to hear melodic yet hard-edged tracks like “Green” (one of my favorites since their 7” of it), the pulsating “Desire”, and “Purple Rage”.

I caught most of their set and hopped over on the train with a few people I ran into at the show to see Julien Baker, whose album absolutely devastated me like nothing else I can remember, both on first listen and the many subsequent listens. Singing about addiction, heartbreak, and loneliness, Sprained Ankle stops you in your tracks- after I heard the whole thing in mid-October, I couldn’t listen to anything else.

Once Baker started her set at Mercury Lounge that night, the crowd went so silent that you could hear a feather drop in the room. Her songs were filled with lust and love and memories and I stopped breathing, I’m sure. Her songs are meandering and honest and fearless. In one of my favorites, “Everybody Does”, she sings “you’re gonna run/it’s alright everybody does/you’re gonna run when you find out who I am.” Though her set was too short, I was already 100% certain that everyone I know needed to see her live and hear her album and I am 100% certain that her performance broke my heart.

While it’s a bit sappy, the night reminded me of the reason why I moved to New York. Though I’m still relatively young, I recently lost interest in going out as much as I did when I was 19 or 20 and hopping to two or three shows a night. I felt alienated from the crowd and from the people around me, people who I used to be friends with and see all the time. Before that night, I would go out, stay at a show for an hour or so and immediately go home, lonely and disinterested.

That night in November reminded me of why New York can be so magical, and it gave me something I really needed. It made me realize that sometimes cool things don’t have to be terrible, and sometimes things can change, and the music, the people, and you can all be better than ever.

-Amanda Dissinger

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February 6, 2016

2015: A Year’s Worth of Memories (Ben Grigg)

ben grigg
Photograph by Mark Federighi

We lost a lot of great bands in 2015 to varying degrees of mourning and despair. Krill’s final bow obviously struck a nerve but it’s important to remember that they weren’t the only band to step down. While Ovlov managed to find a spiritual continuation via Stove, Geronimo! — who I penned a hybrid eulogy/review for back in March, just a small handful of months after they played this site’s first showcase — have taken a somewhat different path. Guitarist/vocalist Kelly Johnson and keys master Ben Grigg have been devoting their time to various new projects. All of them will undoubtedly be worth hearing. Grigg was kind enough to reflect on the loss of Ovlov and what it meant to him to be at their final show. Read it below and make sure you see your friends’ bands while they’re still around.

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2015 was a year of change for me. Every year changes people, but last year was a big one for me. The band I had played in since 2007, Geronimo!, called it quits, I left the comfort of a familiar job for the intimidating challenge of a new one, and I moved into a house far from my old neighborhood to the west side of Chicago. The good thing about change though is that it usually forces growth. You lose some comfort for the sake of coming closer to who you want to be. That’s the hope at least.

Pretty soon after our band played its last show, the realization set in that I had no plans for my free time. Intellectually, I had known the that this would happen, but I was not prepared for the reality of it. I would come home after work and have nothing to do. Every day of the week. I found myself contemplating what the hell I was doing with my life. Shit.

Suddenly, amidst all the free time and emo soul searching, I developed an itch to get a plane ticket and travel out to Brooklyn for a weekend. It became imperative. At the time, it wasn’t clear to me why I had to do this. But, with some distance, I can see what was going on in my head. Without playing shows, I wasn’t getting out east to see the friends I had made through past tours. I wasn’t sure when I’d be able to get out there again and somehow it seemed like a way to get some closure on that part of band life.

As luck would have it, some pals of mine in a band called Clearance from Chicago were playing in June at Shea Stadium. It seemed like as good a time as any. I joked to the guys in Clearance that I’d see them In Brooklyn but I doubt they believed me. A few days later, Ovlov announced that they would be playing their last show that same weekend, also at Shea. That sealed the deal. I bought plane tickets.

Getting to see Ovlov one last time was especially meaningful to me.We first played with them back in 2011 on an east coast tour and got along with them pretty immediately. On that tour they invited us to their friend’s beach house in Rhode Island. Drinks that night famously consisted almost entirely of Beer 30. We had to leave pretty early the next morning for a long drive to the next show, but awoke to find a bunch of groceries meant for us and a hilariously illegible note from Ovlov and their friend Gator. It was about the coolest thing that had happened to us as a band. Over the next four years, we played with Ovlov many more times and got to know them. They felt like our first real band friends.

I don’t have too many vivid memories from watching them play that last show at Shea. It’s more of a mixture of visceral fleeting moments. Feeling the floor moving, getting my ears blasted, chanting along to “I can’t wait to watch TV”. It was the perfect goodbye to Ovlov, and somehow, in the most cliche way possible, a goodbye to a part of my life. I’ll be in other bands, hopefully I’ll come out to the east coast again and see a lot of the same people. But, that experience, that specific part of my life was gone.

That night, I stayed up with friends waiting until the wee hours of the morning when my flight left LaGuardia. These are the kind of friends that I had the privilege of making from being in a band. The kind that will stay up until 5am after a show to see you off. It was the perfect end to the weekend. All things told, I got to reconnect and hang out with a ton of people that had made my experiences playing in Geronimo so meaningful. It was all I could have hoped for and it made me feel so damn thankful to have had the opportunity to play music and meet all these great people.

By the end of the year, I was back playing music with friends in Chicago. With any luck, 2016 will be a year of first shows, not last ones. New growth. Every year can’t be a 2015, but it’s good to have them every now and then.

-Ben Grigg

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February 6, 2016

2015: A Year’s Worth of Memories (Sami Martasian)

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Photograph by Nina Corcoran

In 2014, I was fortunate enough to spend a week in Toronto with Christine Varriale, who has since introduced me to some of my favorite people in music and music writing. One of the more notable introductions was that of Sami Martasian, who was writing alongside Christine at Allston Pudding. Later on, Christine would join Martasian’s folk-leaning project, Puppy Problems. Somewhere in between all of that, I was fortunate enough to get to know Martasian a little better, and it quickly became clear that she’s the type of person that elevates anyone lucky enough to be pulled into her world. It’s a genuine privilege to have some so unfailingly kind, generous, and enormously talented be involved in this project. Her piece for this series is both a celebration of her friends and an examination of an unexpected moment that felt like a small victory for Boston. Read it below and then go spend some time with the people you love.

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Christine and I were working at Boston Calling almost with the sole purpose of catching Krill’s set. They all played a great show but the sound was funky and there was this huge reverb, and when I say huge reverb I mean: extremely fucking huge reverb. I think we were all a little bummed because it was such a big stage and we were so excited for them to be there and we honestly just wanted people to be really into their set (and a lot of people were- it was by no means “bad”, just a little weird).

So the last day rolls around and some of the Allston Pudding bunch and I wind up sticking around after our shift at the festival so we can see Tenacious D and the Pixies. Tenacious D ends up being unexpectedly emotional for a lot of us and kind of takes us back to being in middle school or what have you and getting into music for the first time and I mean come on its Jack Black in person! We’re all tired from working the fest for the past few days and he gets us laughing and a few of us crying like we’re kids again. Soon enough it’s time for the Pixies to play and Jack Black starts hyping them like crazy.

He shouts “WITHOUT THE PIXIES, THERE WOULD BE NO NIRVANA” and the crowd goes totally wild.

He shouts “WITHOUT THE PIXIES, THERE WOULD BE NO WEEZER” and again the crowd goes nuts.

Then Jack Black shouts “WITHOUT THE PIXIES, THERE WOULD BE NO KRILL” and we all just look at each other and lose it.

We’re all practically chanting “holy shit Jack Black said Krill” to each other. The best part of this was knowing that the Krill guys are enormous fans of Jack and that this must have been an incredibly cool moment for them to experience. I think it felt so good because Krill was like this really personal and important band for all of us in different ways- and for someone a lot of us grew up watching, who’s a really big deal in the world, to recognize these hometown heroes felt like a strange victory for our community. We were all messaging Jonah and our friends who weren’t there. It was probably the feeling sports fans get if their team wins.

I remember calling my mom to tell her “mom, okay, do you remember Jack Black? Yeah, think really hard mom…yeah, that guy from School Of Rock… yeah, it was a really good movie, you’re right, but check it out: that guy said ‘Krill’”.

My mom was really happy.

-Sami Martasian

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February 5, 2016

2015: A Year’s Worth of Memories (Isabel Reidy)

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Troll, Isabel Reidy’s first EP under the Izzy True moniker, was a record I found myself returning to countless times throughout the course of 2015. For whatever reason, those six songs wound up resonating fairly heavily and it was impossible to escape their grasp. Part of it may be that Reidy’s brand of songwriting is so distinctively plaintive but still manages to contain multitudes of acutely realized personal discoveries; it boldly eschews trends and embraces flaws. Incredibly well-versed and ceaselessly intriguing, it’s rewarded every return visit, continuously unfurling its own peculiar world. Reidy maintains full creative control for the piece below as well, recalling the tour stop that served as the introduction to the music of Bryan Reynolds. It’s a fascinating account of the type of moment that makes getting two hours of sleep a night for a few weeks straight completely worthwhile. Read it below and go looking for your own story from the road sometime soon.

Early this spring my buddy Joe (Modern Hut) and I played a show in Providence, RI. It was the final night of a little weekend tour we’d been on. We had just lost almost all of our gas money somewhere between Brooklyn and Rhode Island because Joe said, “let’s go to the casino,” and I said “okay, yes.” I said “okay, yes” because I am learning how to be a ROAD DOG and I believe that is how a ROAD DOG unwinds. Joe is a seasoned ROAD DOG with a deep, unwavering commitment to vice. He was teaching me all he knows. A ROAD DOG knows that throwing all of your money into the trash is a karmic investment towards your future, so it was no surprise that that evening ended up being a very special one. That was the night when we first saw Bryan Reynolds.

Bryan is a tall dude in his twenties with wide set eyes, an angular face, and a big mustache. He was dressed like a gym teacher going to church. It’s hard to remember exactly, but I think he wore a crisp pair of slacks, dress shoes, and a track jacket. There was an odd tension between the way he was dressed and his age- it reminded me of a time in high school when my friends and I shaved a bald spot into my friend’s head, dressed him up in my dad’s clothes, and made him try to buy us beer (mysteriously, this worked). His powers were immense- I could sense that immediately.

The show was held in a warehouse; lamp-lit, vast, and populated with couches in various states of dankness. We drank the $1 tequila and something-or-others from plastic cups while the first band played their numerous instruments for a small eternity. Towards the end of their set I crept into the kitchen to write a set list. There was the mustachio’d Bryan and his personal bottle of whiskey, doing the same. I peeked at his list. Some song titles I remember: “I Smoked Pot”, “Mr. Good-times-roll”, the mysterious “Cucumbers(?)”, and “King of the Road”. I have loved Roger Miller since I was a child. Good omens. My childhood friend who I hadn’t seen in years was there, evidently Bryan was his roommate at the time. Good omens.

There were about ten people at the show, not including the bands, certainly including the people who lived in the space. This was about the speed of all of the shows on that tour. I played. Applause, milling about. Joe played. Applause, milling about. Out came Bryan. He pulled a child sized classical guitar out of a brown paper Stop ‘n’ Shop bag and proceeded to play one of the best shows I have ever seen.

There is no way I can adequately describe what happened that night. So much about the show, when reduced to words could sound calculated, but Bryan’s spirit is pure. I’m certain of that. His songs are deceptive simplicity, but he is an extremely skilled musician. He sings with a rich, clear, tenor croon. Lyrically, he’s cruising at Michael Hurley’s altitude- in terms of performance, he is a spooky Jonathan Richman. For the record, those are my two favorite musicians of all time.

I remember when he busted into “I Smoked Pot” his voice warbled and quivered and peeled out beautifully. When he pulled out a little doo-wop “shoop-shoop-shoop” I had to work very hard not to laugh. Bryan delivered those scat lines with such sincerity that it wasn’t clear whether laughter would be appropriate. I ended up with ache-y smile face. At one point during the set Bryan seemed to get stuck on one chord- he played it over and over and over, eyes closed, rocking back and forth.

He did this for what was probably about five minutes.

It got to the point where I thought he might actually be having some kind of seizure or stroke. I felt genuine fear. I thought about calling an ambulance. Suddenly, seamlessly, he jumped right back into the song. Joe and I kept turning to each other and exchanging “Is this really happening???” faces.

The set ended with “Black Magic”. Bryan was joined by compatriot Adam Souza who was playing the Otamatone, an anthropomorphic musical note shaped instrument which sounds like a ghost type Pokémon dying. Everyone in the crowd knew the words and sang in three-part harmony. I felt like I had stepped into some alternate universe where this guy was a huge celebrity, or a religious figure (or something).

A really talented performer has the ability to transform the atmosphere of a place. The space that Bryan created that night was tense and immense. I know all of this sounds completely hyperbolic, but I really mean it. I walked away feeling deeply confused about the world, like maybe it had been some elaborate prank. I couldn’t tell what was real. That show changed the way I look at performance. I didn’t know it could be so much. Me and Joe have been talking about it ever since. If you are ever in Providence, you have to see this dude.

-Isabel Reidy

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February 5, 2016

2015: A Year’s Worth of Memories (Phil McAndrew)

Photograph by Shauna Roloff

Last year, Phil McAndrew (pictured above, behind the kit) delivered a heartfelt piece to the first edition of this series. At the core of that piece was a celebration of his younger brother, Ray, and the music he was making with Perfect Pussy. A little while later, he’d become much more than a supportive voice in the audience and create the distinctive comic accompaniment for Astonishing Adventures!, Perfect Pussy’s ferocious split with Joanna Gruesome. It was another small moment of brilliance in what’s turning into an illustrious career in animation. Even while registering credits for places like MAD Magazine, IFC, Cartoon Network, Random House, and Workman Publishing, McAndrew’s found time to join a band and catch a slew of shows (a few of which I was fortunate enough to be able to take in with him). Below, he covers some of the artists that meant the most to him in 2015 and explores his reintroduction to making music. Read it below and then indulge your own creative sensibilities in any way you see fit.

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2015 was kind of a strange year with lots of ups and downs and sideways and diagonals and such. But if we’re talking strictly music stuff, it was a really excellent year, filled almost entirely with ups.

Thinking back on 2015, I’m flooded with music related memories that felt meaningful in one way or another. Scribbling drawings of my brother Ray and our friend Garret as they started writing the next Perfect Pussy album in my childhood bedroom. Directing a music video for my old friend Jeff York’s new band, Major Player. Hanging out alone late at night and turning the volume way up on new tunes from my brothers Tyler and Ray, who make music together as Toxic Parents and separately in a variety of bands and solo projects like Wealth, Crusher, Perfect Pussy, and MKSEARCH. Getting back into drawing weird flyers for bands my friends play in.

Getting to watch Sleater-Kinney play from backstage at Irving Plaza. Seeing more great shows than I can even count, in huge venues, in small venues, on a pier in Manhattan, in an old car wash, in burrito restaurants and skateboard shops and art spaces, and in basements in my neighborhood…. Sheer Mag, All Dogs, Rainer Maria, Destruction Unit, Really Big Pinecone, Izzy True, Downtown Boys, Fleabite, Harmonica Lewinski, Deerhoof, Warehouse, Pretengineer, Arm Candy, Speedy Ortiz, Olivia Neutron-John, Big Ups, Pity Sex, Aye Nako, Nine of Swords, Waxahatchee, Mannequin Pussy, and dozens of others.

The most meaningful thing that happened for me this year was that I myself started playing music again after a very long hiatus. I hadn’t played drums since sometime in 2010, when jobs and grad school and relationships scattered the members of the bands I used to play in to different states. Five years and two cross-country moves later, my friend and old next-door neighbor Mim asked if I’d be interested in taking over on drums in her band, The Nudes. Right around the same time, my friend and current roommate Shauna, started playing bass in the band (they’d never had a bassist before). I’ve loved The Nudes since I first saw them play when I moved back to upstate New York from Southern California in 2013, so I was pretty thrilled to be asked to play with them.

We’ve played a lot of shows since I joined The Nudes over the summer. My favorite show was here in Syracuse in October with local favorites Malvinas, fellow upstate New Yorkers Green Dreams, and the great Worriers, whose most recent album I can’t stop listening to. The show was packed and everyone was in high spirits. I saw so many smiles at this show. I saw people of all sizes and genders bouncing around together as the bands played, getting wiggly and weird and laughing. Nobody was dancing like a violent psychopath. Everything about this show felt right. It was all of the good things that I missed about playing in bands.

2014 was all about watching my brothers and friends do cool things and conquer the world, only participating in the music scene in my own small, non-musical ways. That continued into 2015, but to get back into playing music myself in a band I love with people I love was nothing less than magical.

-Phil McAndrew

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Tag: 2015