Joey | Heartbreaking Bravery

February 4, 2016

2015: A Year’s Worth of Memories (Tica Douglas)

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One of the quietest surprises of 2015 was a miniature masterpiece of self-dissection offered up by Tica Douglas in Joey. A masterful take on gender and general identity that was laced with as much endearing self-deprecation as bruised hope, it remains a startling listen (and few records packed a 1-2 punch as powerful as “Black & White” and “All Meanness Be Gone“). Easily one of 2015’s most notable — and heartening — records, it also expanded the attention Douglas’ music was receiving, both on a critical and commercial basis. Below, Douglas talks about rediscovering some childhood advice to find the courage to perform some extremely personal songs in front of a group of people who’d been there since the beginning. Read it all below.

Last June I booked a tour to celebrate the release of my newest record, Joey. Compared to my last tours, this one was short and sweet. The whole thing took only about two weeks and the farthest North I went was Portland, Maine — my hometown. Joey’s my most up-close-and-personal record yet; it explores the joy and melancholy of my lifelong gender confusion. I hadn’t really thought about what it would be like to play these revealing songs live in front of my family and friends until the drive north, the day of the show.

I was hungover. I’d played Burlington, VT the night before. It turned out that my cousins who lived there worked at the big sports bar right in the center of town. They were kind of the dual queens of the whole operation. That meant that after playing a low-key set at the quiet art gallery next door, I sidled up awkwardly with my guitar between dudes playing Buck Hunter and Darts, and watched as my cousins gracefully fielded this crowd, handing me free shots and beers in between quick catch-ups.

The next morning, Andrew drove while I sat in the passenger seat, my head swooning in and out of nauseous aching. What a weird scene last night, I thought. Andrew interrupted my stalled thinking, asking if I was psyched to play Portland tonight. My stomach twisted a little. I remembered a text message I got from my mom earlier in the week: “excited 4 show. all aunts r coming, grammy too. plus gina told everyone. should be a big turnout!!! ms. fox will be there.”

I closed my eyes and placed my head against the cold window. Suddenly, the full weight of what was about to happen descended on me. I would be onstage alone, without a band to hide behind, singing personal details about the complexities of growing up in-between to the people I grew up next to. I don’t exactly know why that prospect was so daunting, but it was. I’ve always found it easier to play for strangers.

Luckily, I was too brain-dead at the moment to overthink it. Mile by mile we got closer to home, while Andrew and I flipped through his middle school CD jacket.

But as we drove over the big green metal bridge, the only southern entry “To All Maine Points,” my body faced what my brain wouldn’t, every part of it tied up with nervous energy.

My anxiety peaked as we loaded into the venue. I called Gracie. I told her I didn’t know if I could do this. I didn’t know if I wanted to. I wasn’t even sure why. It just felt loaded, and really awkward.

I paced back and forth outside a bit trying to calm my body down. I smoked a cigarette in secret. I talked to myself. I focused on my breath. Then, right before it was time to go on, I remembered some advice my mom gave me when I was a kid. I had terrible separation anxiety and I was scared to go on a field trip with my class. She told me: whenever you start to feel anxious, like you’re spiraling, focus on someone else. Do something for them, make them feel better. It will take your mind off you. It will help.

It was time to go on. I went to the stage and looked out at the crowd. My family — old teachers, middle school and high school friends, people I hadn’t seen in years — they were all there, smiling up at me, yelling little cheers, whistling, waiting for me to start. Things moved in slow-motion in those first seconds, as I scanned the crowd and saw each of the many faces in perfect clarity.

It hit me that these people are the reason that I, in all my mixed-up in-between-ness, have been able to access joy in my life. Whether or not they knew the details I was about to sing to them, they always understood me, always loved and encouraged the me that I was. I know how lucky that is. This performance wasn’t about me, it had nothing to do with me. Fuck feeling awkward. What a small feeling. This was about expressing my deepest gratitude to my home, to the people who raised me, who allowed Joey to exist.

I was momentarily and unexpectedly overcome with emotion seeing these faces. Especially my mom’s. When I was five, in the car on the way to my first day of kindergarten, I confessed to my mom that I felt like a boy, without fully even understanding what that meant, and I asked her if that was okay. She didn’t seem caught off guard. In fact, it felt like she’d been waiting for this question my whole life. She told me: It’s more than okay. It’s a special gift. Even though it will be painful at times, always know it’s a blessing. You were made special. That moment determined the rest of my life. My mom made me feel special and not shameful about how I didn’t quite fit, and I’ve carried that confidence alongside my confusion everywhere since. I’m thankful for this moment everyday. I recognize how incredibly rare it is.

I closed my eyes and started playing. I thought of my mom. I thought of everyone in the audience. I tried to give them this performance in my deepest thanks. My anxiety disappeared. It was the best show I played on tour, possibly all year.

-Tica Douglas

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January 14, 2016

The Honorable Mentions of the 2015 Music Categories

Before diving into the particulars of the forthcoming lists, it’s worth addressing the distinction made in the headline. Each of the categories that received a list in 2015 (music videos, songs, EP’s, albums, odds and ends) will be expanded upon in this post. However, there are still two forthcoming film lists but each of those will include the honorable mentions along with the featured rankings. An obscene amount of great material came out over the 12 months that comprised the past year so any attempts to cover everything would be futile. If anyone’s exhausted the below lists, a more comprehensive version can be found by exploring the following tags: stream, full stream, EP stream, and music video. Explore some of the top tier picks that didn’t make it onto the year-end lists via the tags below.

Music Videos

EPs

Songs

Albums

Odds and Ends

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June 28, 2015

Watch This: Vol. 83

While the past week has been, by and large, dedicated to live coverage (a knock-on effect of moving to a city that hosts multiple shows a night), I’ve still been keeping a wayward eye on both the present release cycle of songs, records, and live captures. It’s the latter category that this post, the 83rd installment of a series that celebrates some of the week’s best live footage, will use as its focus. As usual, there were more than five entries to be considered for a final spot and the clips that didn’t make the cut aren’t worth ignoring, either. So, when you’re done with the feature videos, double back and check out some recently posted performances by Advaeta, Izzy True, Painted Zeros, The Tallest Man On Earth, and Gianna Lauren. Until then, sit back, adjust the lighting to your preference, turn the volume up, lean in, and Watch This.

1. Mikal Cronin – Say (WFUV)

Mikal Cronin, now three records into what’s proving to be an astonishing solo career, has a legitimate claim at being one of this generation’s finest pop songwriters. While MCIII didn’t quite reach the heights of perfection that its immediate predecessor managed but it was compromised of several golden moments, nonetheless. One of those moments came in the form of “Say”, which Cronin and has band dive headfirst into here for WFUV, perfectly capturing that fleeting moment of uncertainty before being consumed by the feelings that accompany any notable dive, jump, or other drastic action.

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2. PINS (KEXP)

One of this year’s more intriguing breakout acts, PINS have been making the most out of their newfound attention. They’re delivering at seemingly every opportunity, this KEXP session most certainly included. A jagged band with intriguingly sharp edges, they’ve made no qualms about embracing post-punk’s inherent rawness. In four songs, they manage to fully establish their identity and will more than likely wind up with a few more converts on their hands.

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3. Hop Along (NPR)

At this point, Hop Along‘s on this list more often than not and close to all that can be said about their live show has been said in this column already. Here, they get to experiment with stripping back ever so slightly for NPR’s Tiny Desk Sessions series and the results are predictably stunning. Frances Quinlan’s vocals are given even more emphasis but the music’s intrinsically gentle qualities are also given the opportunity to be maximized, capitalizing on a dynamic that suits the band to quiet perfection. As usual, it’s a performance that’s not worth missing.

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4. Tica Douglas – All Meanness Be Gone (WMUA)

Joey was one of 2015’s most welcome surprises back when it was released (and maintains that position now). In that record’s penultimate track, “All Meanness Be Gone”, nearly every aspect of Joey‘s identity-intensive narrative is spun together in a tapestry that’s as devastating as it is heartening. WMUA recently had Douglas in for a solo acoustic session that included a heartfelt performance of the song, one of the year’s best, which can (and should) be seen below.

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5. No Joy (KEXP)

At this point the heap of bands fighting to distinguish themselves from each other that operate in the middle ground between traditional post-punk and shoegaze is so expansive that it’s nearly impossible. No Joy manage to make it look effortless in a commanding KEXP session that sees them playing songs old and new. Occasionally muddled but never murky, these four songs present No Joy as an unlikely powerhouse who are clearly ready for bigger stages. Heavy, uncompromising, and ultimately exhilarating, it’s both KEXP and No Joy at their absolute finest.

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March 15, 2015

Tica Douglas – Joey (Album Review, Stream)

Now that the site’s all caught up on full streams and documentaries, I’ll be damned if I let it slip back behind. As new records roll in, the ones that catch my ear will be written about in this very space. The exact same can be said for music documentaries, whether they’re shorts or feature-length pieces. On the latter count, I’d be remiss not to bring up the oddly compelling (and genuinely heartfelt) Noah Abrams doc, Butch Walker – Afraid of Ghosts, which features one of the most intriguing cameo roster in recent memory. Representing the recently-unearthed full stream selection, there’s the frantic post-punk skronk of Pill’s self-titled EP and april is over, the delicate (and stark) collection of wistful tape demos that comes courtesy of Catherine DeGenarro’s solo project, hairpins. While that trio of media is deserving of rapt attention, it’s Tica Douglas‘ legitimately extraordinary Joey that will be the focus of tonight’s piece.

Meticulously crafted and deeply felt, Joey announces itself via the title track- a devastating meditation on identity. As soon as the line “If I were born a boy, they were gonna call me Joey” lands, the record begins sprawling out in increasingly stunning displays of doubt, self-examination, and- finally- defiantly unwavering strength. That strength is gained through self-confidence, sense of purpose, and towering conviction; three elements that seep through Joey‘s embattled veins, even at its most intentionally ugly moments (the guitarwork in the back half of “Mornings After Nights Like Those” is nothing short of brilliant). As the record progresses, with an endless stream of stunning songs cascading down on whoever’s fortunate enough to have hit play, the personal trials that Douglas had to face become a concrete subtext which winds up cloaking the affair in a layer of understated sadness, even at its most celebratory peaks.

Importantly, the band that Douglas has assembled, match rapier storytelling with equally sharp playing. Echoes of the likes of Elliott Smith and Cat Power are clearly evidence in the compositions, with even more classic touchpoints illuminating songs like the monumental “Black & White” (the record’s most exhilarating moment), in which Douglas promises a never-ending allegiance that doubles as a blinding declaration of character and integrity. It’s one a select few songs on Joey that breaks from the confessional finger-picking mold that gives the record its slow-beating heart. That’s not to say Joey ever falls into the trap of overt repetition; it’s masterfully composed from start to finish- even a cursory listen would betray Douglas’ enviable songwriting prowess. Even though the jaw-dropping grandeur of “Black & White” elevates an already outstanding record to another place, it’s the penultimate song that yields Joey‘s most arresting moment.

Stripping skin back to the bone, “All Meanness Be Gone” emphasizes the record’s most bravely vulnerable aspects; nothing will ever be perfect and there’s always going to be company waiting in the wings of life’s most tragic moments. Uphill battles will always have to be fought but when those wars are waged with genuinely good purpose, the scars earned on those battlefields will become scars that are worn proudly. The song’s sense of time, sense of place, and sense of history is astounding, with Douglas’ weary delivery and gentle melodies rendering the affair an absolutely devastating blow. By the time it winds down to a hushed whisper, “All Meanness Be Gone” cements Joey‘s chances at becoming a future cult classic. “My My My” provides a relatively fiery end-cap to the proceedings as an all-encompassing epilogue. When everything’s been laid on the table and the medical scans have been printed, it’s not difficult to marvel at how complete Joey winds up being. Healing fractures, bones bracing for their break, and a beating heart that refuses to cease constitute Joey– and the stubbornness in refusing to disguise those wounds or subvert them into something else make Joey a release to treasure.

Listen to Joey in full below and pre-order the record Swell Records here.

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