Simplest Form is a five-piece band. What other descriptors might one give this band? It’s hard to say. Their releases so far touch on every genre from hip-hop to folk, making Simplest Form difficult to box in. Nonetheless, the band is always reliable in creating music that is catchy and creative. Whether they’re rapping over a rock beat (

) or singing with acoustic guitar in the background (

), Simplest Form manages to give every track their own signature touch.

With their latest single “lowercasey,” out on March 17th, the band does not disappoint. In particular, this track emphasizes a sweet and nonchalant sense of humor. Initially, lyrics such as, “I washed my hands after peeing / It was less for me, more for you,” may take listeners by surprise. When was the last time you heard some too-cool-for-you music artist sing a line like that? It doesn’t happen often – artists often shy away from singing something so openly awkward. Yet, as “lowercasey” plays on, it becomes clear that these lyrics are key to the single’s down-to-earth relatability. At one point the song remarks, “You’ll do crazy things for the one you love / Like share a sub and get onions on it against better judgement.” This light-hearted honesty spurs laughter but also puts a spotlight on the reality of romance. While so much music focuses on the sleek and dramatic aspects of relationships, it is refreshing to hear a song that expresses the reality in all of its undignified glory.

When these vocals are paired with the song’s funky pop instrumental, “lowercasey” quickly takes on an undeniably charismatic quality. Like an outgoing friend dragging you onto the dancefloor, the song is hard to say no to. You might feel taken aback by its confidence and honesty at first, but how could you possibly turn down all that fun? In general, the pop genre fits the gleeful, romantic tone of the song perfectly. Even the pop-disdaining listeners out there will likely find themselves bobbing their heads. Among the track’s varied array of instrumentation, the bright keyboard riffs stand out most. The song begins with a meandering piano part, but at the chorus, this morphs into a tropical keyboard-sounding variation of the riff. To top it off, Simplest Form refuses to fall prey to the usual stumbling block of pop music; the song is far from cookie-cutter. The track is divided into segments, each with a distinct mood. The beginning feels almost like a ballad, but this soon gives way to a bouncy, warm chorus followed by a percussive bridge. Each section incorporates some unique flair, be it rhythmic vocals or retro-sounding synths. Yet, the sections of the song also fall in line to create a narrative flow.

At its core, Simplest Form’s “lowercasey” is a smile-inducing expression of love. The band tosses aside all things logical and plastic, choosing instead to focus on unbridled hope and exuberance. The single seamlessly incorporates creative and danceable instrumentals with humorous, affectionate lyrics. “And life will stand in the way / Gotta fall for something,” the band figures in the chorus. Behind all the levity and the bright pop elements, Simplest Form makes a pretty good point. While you ponder the charming stupidity of love, play “lowercasey” on repeat and dance down the street. It’s what the song demands.

Simplest Form’s single “lowercasey” will make you laugh, dance, and smile

Sweaters. So many sweaters. The knit garments and unkempt hair of much of the audience members suggested an easygoing, free-spirited crowd. These were the fans that had come to see Bonny Light Horseman perform on December 13th at The Sinclair. As evidenced by their fashion choices, the audience had come for a show that was decidedly folksy, and all the better for it.

Before folk music took over, however, Cassandra Jenkins gave a brief opening set. Although she would have benefited from a full band at certain points, the minimal performance still offered an often hypnotic atmosphere. “Ambiguous Norway,” for instance, saw Jenkins ditch her guitar for a synthpad loop and a string of bells. As she gingerly shifted the bells over her fingers, she sang with her eyes closed, “You’re gone, you’re everywhere.” After the audience digested the gut-wrenching song in silence, Jenkins quipped, “Any questions?” She used similar humorous asides throughout, including a comment about her Amtrak delay earlier that day. Jenkins’ final song was the most memorable, however. “Hard Drive” offers an intro-monologue that is zany but still profound and self-aware, particularly when performed live. As the song built, Jenkins repeatedly returned to the theme of one’s heart being put back together on the count of three. Ultimately, Cassandra Jenkins’ humorous yet heartfelt delivery made for a gratifying listening experience.

Bonny Light Horseman then came on stage and the folk music commenced. The band recently released an album, 

, yet their setlist for the night turned out to be nearly a 50/50 blend of old and new. The band is a trio consisting of Anaïs Mitchell, Eric D. Johnson, and Josh Kaufman. Anaïs Mitchell is best known as the creator of critically acclaimed musical 

, while Eric D. Johnson is frontman of the folk rock band the Fruit Bats. Josh Kaufman also has a strong solo career, having worked with Bob Weir of the Grateful Dead as well as The National. Each member of Bonny Light Horseman already boasts their own impressive and distinct backgrounds in music – yet when the three musicians bring their skills and passions together, something wonderful happens.

The band sometimes seems like a meticulous yet also playful take on traditional folk music. This genre is ambiguous, but some would say that the genre makes frequent use of lyrics or a melody that has been passed down over many years. Although the writer or composer is often forgotten, the song lives on. The most obvious sign of this inspiration for Bonny Light Horseman was during their eponymous track. The song traces back to Irish traditional music, and includes notably dated lyrics:

“Oh, Napoleon Bonaparte, you’re the cause of my woe / Since my bonny light horseman

to the wars he did go / Broken hearted I’ll wander, broken hearted I’ll remain / Since my

bonny light horseman in the wars he was slain.”

Yet as Mitchell sang this refrain, the woes of hundreds of years ago cut deeper still. Her vocals were warm, welcoming, and – in this case – filled with grief.

Whenever Mitchell was joined by Johnson on vocals, their musical chemistry was obvious. In several songs, including “The Roving” and “Summer Dream,” the vocal harmonies struck by Johnson and Mitchell were stunning. The two struck a unique balance wherein their voices joined together without losing any characteristic nuances. Johnson’s steady, clear notes and Mitchell’s earthy tones were always present in parallel. Even when one simply passed off the vocal part to the other, their transitions had the smooth and effortless quality of two people who are seasoned musicians but also good friends.

Then there was the instrumentation. During songs like “Bonny Light Horseman,” the harmonica became an otherworldly tool. As Johnson leaned towards his mic, both hands on the harmonica, the sound of the small wind instrument seemed to throb, as if Johnson had mastered some sort of vibrato technique. In the very same song, the band also included electric guitar solos, which the audience adored. Kaufman, with his wild hair and elbows sticking out through torn sleeves, demonstrated undeniable guitar chops. Then, during the upbeat “Sweetbread,” off the new album, the group embraced more of this rock approach, and Kaufman’s guitar parts took center stage. “That was fun,” the band members laughed afterward. The cheering audience seemed to agree.

The band also emphasized that this felt like something of a hometown show. In “Magpie’s nest,” Johnson sang, “I’ve wandered through Kerry, I’ve wandered through Clare / From Boston down to Jersey, from there to God knows where.” Although the original song lyrics only take place in locations throughout Ireland, the band’s personal twist on the lyric was met with enthusiastic whooping from the crowd. Building on the established connection to Boston, Anaïs Mitchell launched into anecdotes about her time living here as an 18-year-old in 2000. She fondly recalled scraping paint off of her house in Dorchester, taking the Green line to meet a boy she was seeing at the time, and even playing guitar on the Red line.

Technical prowess and Boston connections aside, at the core of Bonny Light Horseman’s performance was the warmth and familiarity of human experiences – There was the ripping grief of loss during “Bonny Light Horseman.” Then, there was the recklessness of putting one’s heart on the line during “Deep in Love.” During the last song of the show, “Summer Dream,” the band expressed the bittersweet nostalgia of wanting to reach for someone from the past. With an expert touch, Bonny Light Horseman used their striking chemistry to evoke the most basic and universal feelings through tradition-inspired folk music.

Bonny Light Horseman lovingly embrace traditional folk music at The Sinclair

On November 6th, The Brazen Youth performed for a young and enthusiastic crowd as the openers for the band flipturn. Energy was high; the venue was sold out. In spite of those cursed pillars that are always obstructing the view at Paradise Rock Club, the show did not disappoint.

The Brazen Youth, a trio from Connecticut, makes music with down-to-earth sentimentality. Rather than embellish, the band often starts with simple, honest storytelling that builds up into a more cinematic, instrumental-driven release. They embrace casual lyricism alongside poetry, and gentle, folksy strumming alongside theatrical keys or horns. When the band took the stage on Sunday, all of these elements of their sound were amplified and beautifully transformed to fit the live setting.

The band started off with “Spirit Finds Yours,” the first track from their latest album 

. The crowd was cheering before the song even ended. At times, the vocals on tracks like “So Afraid,” took on a wonderfully raspy quality. The lyrics “Doin’ me, dirty / I want you to explore me” and “Make me, salty / I want to taste the ocean” were nearly shouted, and this vocal style gave many of the songs a surprisingly raw edge when heard live. Yet extra notes and harmonies in between also helped to make the vocals shine. “Changing” featured softer singing, and lead vocalist Nic Lussier added a few long ah’s that soared above the strong instrumental. Not to mention the tempo switch in the later half was met with sheer joy in the audience.

During one of the band’s most popular songs, “Center of Gravity,” the gentle, heartfelt words permeated the room. “If I was the center of gravity / Why would you let it all fall from me?” the band lamented. During the song’s buildup, which is normally entirely instrumental, Lussier sang some extra notes that perfectly complemented the rising intensity of the song. The march-style percussion then completed the escalation, eliciting cheers from the crowd before they immediately fell quiet again to hear Lussier sing the dreamy closing lyrics: “Someday, I’ll jump in this car / and I’ll drive to wherever you are, to meet me / to meet you.” Of course, the crowd didn’t have long to linger in this reverie. Other captivating songs were soon to follow, including the passionate “I Love It All,” after which one excited girl new to the band asked, “What’s the name of this group again?” She mistakenly typed in “the Raisin Youth” at first, but the other audience members were quick to help her out. The Brazen Youth closed their set with a cover of “Unwritten” by Natasha Bedingfield. Though this nostalgic 2000s cover came as an unlikely choice, it quickly turned into a wholesome sing-along, cementing the warm atmosphere established throughout the set.

The headlining band, flipturn, then took the stage and veered away from folk-rock and into the surf-rock/pop arena, reflecting their Florida roots. “This is a dream come true… this is insane… thank you!” said lead vocalist Dillon Basse, after pointing out that this was the band’s biggest headlining show yet. Every person in the audience seemed to be singing and knew each song inside and out. The vocals were smooth, and the music was upbeat and lively. Particularly memorable were “Chicago” and, in the encore, “August.” Being flipturn’s most well-known song, “August” was a force to be reckoned with. The whole crowd sang along, “We thought love was something / We weren’t meant to find / But don’t you remember? / August, honey, you were mine.” This final line of the longing-imbued chorus galvanized the crowd each time it came along: the audience of the show had transformed into a group of friends at a post-breakup karaoke session.

The Brazen Youth then joined flipturn on stage to dance around together for the conclusion of the encore. The camaraderie between the two bands was clear and their warmth towards each other seemed contagious. During their set, the Brazen Youth earnestly insisted that flipturn is “the best band,” and flipturn’s frontman returned the compliment saying, “I’m dead serious, I think they’re my favorite band,” of The Brazen Youth. Ultimately, there was dancing, there was hugging, and drumsticks were flung into the air. Both The Brazen Youth and flipturn gave a memorable and thoroughly fun performance.

The Brazen Youth open for flipturn with a warm and moving set

After having to postpone their April show in Boston, 

 came back to town on October 6th for the final show on this leg of their 

 tour. The Irish band initially had to cancel their spring show at the Paradise Rock Club due to lead singer Grian Chatten’s case of laryngitis. In live recordings of songs like “Nabokov,” Chatten often yells out the lyrics with such raw and untethered energy that a laryngitis diagnosis really should have been no surprise. To the delight of many fans in Boston, Fontaines D.C. and opener Wunderhorse brought all this energy and more onto the stage at House of Blues.

The crowd was a menagerie of vaguely hipster twentysomethings and punk rock-loving middle-aged fans. One older fan remarked that discovering Fontaines D.C. had felt the same as hearing classic groups like the Clash back in the 80s. This old-school nostalgia, paired with the thrill of a fresh sound, had everyone feeling eager.

Wunderhorse, the alias of British musician Jacob Slater, opened with a set that drew from an unusual combination of genres. The band began with the moody, introspective “Poppy,” highlighting Salter’s haunting and beautifully controlled vocals. Later, the familiar guitar riff for “Teal” rang out. A fan at the front rail turned to comment that this was the band’s best song – and he wasn’t wrong. With guitar parts and vocals that echo the angst of the Killers’ cult-classic “Mr. Brightside,” Wunderhorse’s “Teal” was at once angry, regretful, and cathartic. As the band played, scraps of conversation suggested that the audience was having trouble categorizing the music — was it similar to shoegaze? Maybe closer to classic rock? Ultimately, the crowd seemed to conclude that, whatever the genre, Wunderhorse was a welcome surprise.

Fontaines D.C. then took the stage, throwing red roses out into the audience. The band opted to start the show with “A Lucid Dream” off of their 2020 album, 

. Like a rollercoaster with a stomach-churning drop in the first few seconds, “A Lucid Dream” began with only a few preparatory moments of ambience before glorious chaos ensued. Tom Coll’s snare quickly sped up to lead into the moment Chatten released a vigorous “Shah!” sound, while shoving the mic away from himself. “There’s gonna be a [mosh] pit to this song,” commented one person.

Riding this tidal wave of an entrance, the band then thrust the venue into the tumultuous poetry of “Hurricane Laughter,” off 2019’s 

. Chatten paced back and forth and shook himself out repeatedly while musing and chanting. As if the venue had been taken over by spoken word fanatics, the crowd yelled every word with him. It is difficult to acknowledge Fontaines D.C. without recognizing their artful lyrics, and the audience seemed to appreciate this. In “Chequeless Reckless,” the crowd continued screaming along to each line of the song’s relentless criticism of all things shallow and money-oriented. “An idiot / is someone who lets their education do all of their thinking,” they roared, “…And money is the sandpit of the soul.” The words felt even more blistering when Chatten’s rant was supported by a crowd of hundreds.

Fontaines D.C. cooled things down in between

Songs like “Roman Holiday” had the crowd prove themselves just as willing to sway with their eyes closed as they were to jump up and down. A similar introspective atmosphere was achieved during “I Don’t Belong,” which saw Chatten become unusually still while singing. The dark bassline and persistent guitar parts flooded the room with a palpable sense of emotional unrest. Other morose songs like “Bloomsday” and “How Cold Love Is” were better played live, especially for the chilling harmonies sung by bassist Conor Deegan III.

Restlessness returned during songs like “Too Real,” which featured a rumbling and anticipatory start before Carlos O’Connell brought out a glass bottle to slide along his guitar strings (until the bottle shattered, that is). This created the song’s dissonant portamento sounds. Popular songs “Jackie Down the Line” and “Boys in the Better Land” were also received with enthusiasm.

Still, the raw energy that Fontaines D.C. is known for was most astonishing during “Nabokov” and “I Love You,” both from 

. During “Nabokov,” the instrumentals exuded rage while Chatten’s wailing vocals conveyed pure hurt and unapologetic desperation. As if he could hardly contain himself, Chatten paced and gestured and shook. He was not graceful, and he was not delicate: there could be no better performance. Meanwhile, Conor Curley stood atop a box draped with an Irish flag and fervidly played his guitar with eyes closed and head tilted up into the spotlight. Behind it all, Coll’s percussion was relentless and carried the band through the stormy ebbs and flows of “Nabokov.”

The band concluded with “I Love You,” which began as a soft but committed promise to Ireland. The entrancing bass part and gentle guitar parts swirled around each other while firm percussion solidified the song. With a passion that pervaded the room, Chatten then took the plunge into the first heartbreaking verse, and the audience readily joined him. “Flowers read like broadsheets / Every young man wants to die / Say it to the man who profits and the bastard walks by,” cried Chatten, reaching out towards the audience with one hand. And still, alongside the heartbreak and disappointment, the core of the song rang clear. Chatten, with the audience backing him up, sang a vow to the band’s home country: “I’ll love you ‘til the grass around my gravestone is deceased.”

Throughout the concert, the band hardly spoke between tracks, yet their presence was overwhelming. The group seemed to understand that nothing more needed to be said — to them and the audience, it was about the music. After a simple “Thank you very much, Boston,” Fontaines D.C. left the stage.

Fontaines D.C. wields raw chaos and passion at House of Blues

Sevdaliza has a distinct style that is all her own — she has a tendency to combine the rawness of an acoustic track with the crisp and powerful sounds of experimental electronic music. With the release of her latest EP, 

, on February 25th, Sevdaliza falls just short of expectations. The EP certainly contains moments of beauty and soft-spoken power, but several of the songs feel as though they are missing some final ingredient. The EP sees Sevdaliza test the water in a variety of different genres, from house music on “Everything is Everything” to hints of a cinematic sound on “Oh My God (Sleepnet X Sevdaliza Remix).” In theory, this diversity of genres is exciting, but Sevdaliza’s exploration may have paid off more if she had taken a more unrestrained approach to these styles.

The EP begins in more familiar territory with the opening track “System.” As listeners have come to anticipate, the production on Sevdaliza’s vocals brings out even the most subtle nuances in her voice. There is an intense clarity to each syllable and every slight quaver. Yet, in slight contrast to the vocals, the instrumental production on “System” is surprisingly pensive and relaxed, sharpened only by an entrancing, snap-like beat. Still, the most notable element in this track is perhaps the lyrics. “I’m too sensitive to be your pedestal,” she sings, and later: “You’re dead to me, we’re done.” The lyrics seem to demand some obvious outcry of emotion, but the song remains fairly distanced throughout, with only the slightest edge in Sevdaliza’s voice. Without any evident climax, the song dissolves into synths and guitar-like sounds at its conclusion. Although some listeners may find the minimalism of the song disappointing, others may see it as a gentle introduction. It is somewhat paradoxical that the very first track of the EP is also the one that sounds the most worn out.

The similarly minimal “High Alone” is more tantalizing thanks to a gorgeous bassline paired with breathy, legato vocals. This track, released initially as a single, carries a strong aura of angst and seduction. The beat feels persistent and the keyboard parts have been carefully woven in. Sevdaliza has also crafted a truly artistic transition occurring just before the last minute of the song. As the vocals and beat cut out, a monologue starts up in the background and harp-like sounds begin to bend into dissonance. The beat slowly builds back up until another recitation of the chorus begins. As the song dives back into its full set of percussion, with some added keyboard parts, the song simply comes full circle. Every part has its purpose, and carries it out beautifully. “High Alone” doesn’t need to announce itself in order for listeners to recognize when the song has reached full bloom.

Another highlight of the EP is “The Great Hope Design.” With its slow, dark, and glitchy sound, this track comes across as classic Sevdaliza. “My existing is a chore,” she practically groans. Her voice lowers and the pitch quivers in a way that demands attention while the percussion plods on, slow and crisp. This song makes delightful use of silence, as well as jarring electronic sounds. The instrumental break at one point in the song is really more of a break into industrial, glitchy, and experimental sounds. The bass part has even been produced in such a way that it seems to be trembling with energy. As she sings, “No man can guide me / I am my own god,” it is not at all difficult to believe her.

Unfortunately, when Sevdaliza wanders into genres outside of her dark and raw electronic niche, it isn’t quite as enthralling. “Everything is Everything” has a laid-back feel. Instrumentally speaking, it’s a very pleasant house-style song, but it feels somewhat artificial to suddenly hear Sevdaliza’s vocals in such a pop style. The song doesn’t quite square up to the raw emotion one might expect from Sevdaliza, or from this EP. Contrarily, “Human Flow” attempts to take on a more emotive tone. As it directly follows the highly electronic “The Great Hope Design,” “Human Flow” is something of a shock to the system. With an Enya-like sound, this track is based almost solely upon acoustic guitar and layers of vocals. While the individual components of the song are moving, they don’t quite come together to make the track memorable in its entirety. The EP then falters again at its conclusion with the remixed track, “Oh My God (Sleepnet X Sevdaliza Remix).” The humming sounds and almost orchestral beginning make for a promising start, but these orchestral segments come at sharp intervals in between the original portions of the song. Later in the song, the remix aspect becomes more blended and traditional, as lightning strike-esque sounds enter as a sort of percussion. Then, the song switches to a typical chopped up remix style, and concludes with a disappointingly emotionless “drop” that sounds too close to 2000s electronic music to be enjoyable.

 EP is still well worth a listen. A few of the tracks fall short and seem to be lacking a creative finishing touch – however, songs like “System,” “Great Hope Design,” and “High Alone” are astonishing. With their attention-grabbing dynamics, crisp sounds, and potent vocals, these tracks are a reminder of Sevdaliza’s artistry.

Sevdaliza’s "Raving Dahlia" at times falters, at times astonishes

, the most recent EP from NYC- and Boston-based artist LLVX is something of an angry inhalation before the next full-length release. The EP, titled 

, is simmering with discontent and uneasiness that falls just before the point of boiling over. It features crisp production on the track “AM I COLD,” an unprompted and honest bout of dialogue in “ROYALTY,” and an ambient conclusion in “There Is No Greater Love – Mollified Mix.”

“AM I COLD” is a fitting start to the EP, as it samples from the song “Cold” off LLVX’s last album release. While it gives a nod to previous work, it also incorporates a fresh new sound as featured artists Olias. and ShojiZero rap over the familiar instrumental portion. While “Cold” was a brooding slow burn of a song, “AM I COLD” quickens the pace ever so slightly. It maintains a moody aura while also taking on an almost threatening quality. As can be said of the album as a whole, this track harbors pent-up anger that evokes a compelling sense of anticipation– when will we see this energy boil over?

After “AM I COLD,” the EP delves right into the spontaneous dialogue of “ROYALTY.” The narrator here seems to be having a conversation that then sparks a rant of sorts. The lyrics point out the layers of discrimination that exist even within oppressed communities. With a thoughtful and disappointed voice, LLVX appears to make the observation that just about every group of people silences some of their members, intentionally or not. At one point for example, “ROYALTY” brings up racism and sexism within the queer community, an already oppressed group of people. This ruminative train of thought does not necessarily offer up answers, but rather, seeks to shine some light on the fact that these problems exist and should be recognized in the first place. As the narration progresses in a stream-of-consciousness style, foreboding and rhythmic piano chords lurk in the background. These chords hint again at a sensation of pent-up anger, or energy waiting to be released. The grim undertones throughout this song give greater significance to the lighter piano melody at the conclusion of the song. The twinkling final notes seem to drift above the darkness that pervaded the rest of “ROYALTY,” as if to suggest that things don’t have to remain the way they are.

Finally, the EP ends with the 16-minute ambient track, “There Is No Greater Love – Mollified Mix.” The track is, in a sense, peaceful. However, it also has an undeniable eerie edge to it – perhaps owing to the chord choice but also because of the low, vibratory quality of the sounds used. The track feels as if the rumbling approach of some colossal ship has been transformed into a beautiful and slightly industrial soundscape. Essentially, the track comes across as a temporary respite from anger. With this tranquil conclusion, there is an implication that all of the barely restrained discontent of 

, will be untied in LLVX’s next music release.

LLVX’s "IT’S THE VISIONS YOU PUT ON US" is an angry inhalation

Brooklyn-based songwriter S. Holden Jaffe has been releasing singles and EPs for years under the name Del Water Gap. With all of his previous releases, it’s easy to forget that his latest release, the eponymous 

, is also the artist’s first full-length album. Already, Jaffe’s EPs such as 

 were able to establish Del Water Gap as a songwriter who can create deeply personal and relatable lyrics, and the 

album expands on this. The album offers up a tracklist that is charged with desire, jealousy, and pure adoration – and no matter which feelings the album stirs up, it always comes with an honest sense of intimacy.

The closeness felt throughout the album stands out when Jaffe uses music and lyrics that surprise the listener. The first track on the album is “Better Than I Know Myself.” With the sudden entrance of electric guitar and a synthy atmosphere, this track feels like an invigorating plunge into cold water. In seconds, the song converts from a distant-sounding beat to a lively anthem. In parallel with this surprising instrumentation, the lyrics offer a pleasant twist as well. “Don’t you know me… better than I know myself?” Jaffe sings at the chorus. Jaffe suggests that this person is close to him in a way that is hardly possible. Lyrics with a surprisingly sentimental twist also appear in “Sorry I Am.” This satisfyingly frank song could have easily taken the usual route with vague indications of missing a past lover, but“Sorry I Am” veers off the beaten path instead. Where the listener expects the typical phrase “drop-dead gorgeous”, Jaffe chooses to be more genuine and sings, “I wish I could tell you…you’re drop-dead kind.” Meanwhile, the warped-sounding instrumentation seems to further emphasize the distress the song conveys for having wronged someone who is, apparently, drop-dead kind.

Other songs on the album like “Alone Together” and “I Hope You Understand” are more constant with their sentimentality, but the lyrics still manage to be somewhat startling. “Alone Together” builds up suspense with a plucked bass that blends with long synth pads to produce a delicate rippling quality reminiscent of a delay effect. Finally, Jaffe seems to give in when he asks, “Oh love, oh my love, don’t you find it moving how we’re still alone together?” The question is not only startling but also rather beautiful. Comparatively, “I Hope You Understand” is a bit lighter, but uses this levity as an opportunity to be unpredictable. When the instrumentation of the song fills in, Jaffe sings in falsetto, “Even when it’s hurting, I hope you understand what you are to me.” These unexpected doses of sweetness help to make 

Jaffe’s candor also shows up in songs that focus more on envy and yearning. “Perfume” primarily focuses on physical desire: the chorus being “I’m thinking of you, right now, with nothing on but your perfume”. Yet, another defining line of the song is, “I’m in love in a dive bar, it ain’t our parents’ story, but I’ll take it and try hard…” Hence, the song is lustful but also expresses a straightforward and sweet romance by putting forward the intention to make the most of this relationship even if it isn’t a classic love story. Meanwhile, the song “Hurting Kind” takes on a pop sound to ask a serious question. “Is our love the hurting kind? I fear to say it is,” ponders Jaffe. The song sarcastically acknowledges this problem but is also tinged with the pain of this realization and desperation to ignore it: “If we ignore it we could be fine / if we learn our love is the hurting kind, I’ll let it devour me”. This stinging honesty carries through into songs that express jealousy. In “Ode to a Conversation Stuck in Your Throat” Jaffe realizes, “I don’t want anybody else touching you like I do, like I do, like me”. His frank admission stands out through the strained edge to his vocals. The bridge, however, reveals a core of insecurity as he discusses how he hates the thought of his past lover being with someone else.

Still, the most heartbreaking point in the album is certainly “It’s Not Fair !” Jaffe sings about how his lover is “killing [him] softly,” and that is precisely how the song itself feels to the listener. The guitar part, with its wistful slides, offers a taste of deep regret before the plaintive chorus where he laments about unfairness. However, it’s the honesty of the bridge, sung with such emotion, that serves as the final nail in the coffin. “Who am I kidding? / I can’t face you / Let alone my mother asking / How’d you lose her?” The song seems to discuss the end of young love – the end of a relationship he thought would be a “twenty-something ever after.” Associated with specific details like this, the gaping hole left behind by this past lover becomes almost palpable.

Towards the end of the album, Jaffe takes a more passive stance. “Uh-huh” sees Jaffe take a step back. He sings, “I want her back, nakedly,” but then ponders more somberly where he stands with his lover and seems to come to the conclusion that they are on different paths. It is this futile conclusion that gives the final song, “Shortest Love Song”, its woeful quality. “Shortest Love Song” is actually an acoustic take of “Hurting Kind,” but it ends earlier with, “Have you been lonesome too? / And can I kiss you?” In this way, the final song concentrates on the other face of “Hurting Kind:” that which is sentimental and romantic but ultimately implies acceptance that the relationship may never heal. The song is perfect for the conclusion of the album, as it demonstrates the main motifs of 

: yearning and sentimentality expressed with the candor that makes this debut album truly exceptional.


Del Water Gap’s self-titled debut is beautiful and frank

, LLVX takes a deeper dive into musical exploration and personal struggle. The New York/Boston-based artist has already demonstrated their music production prowess in the 

, released September 24, takes LLVX’s discography to an entirely new standard. The album is painstakingly thought out, and though best enjoyed in order, the album is also stunning when broken down into its component tracks. Perhaps the most distinctive characteristic of 

 is how wonderfully exhausting it is. The album takes the listener on a journey that is unexpected, harrowing, and yet ultimately empowering. The album specifically tackles themes related to the struggle of trans people, yet 

 is crafted in such a way that anyone who listens feels compassion for the album’s protagonist.

The album starts with the nearly obnoxious sounds of a gender reveal party. However, the spoken words, “She’s a boy!” immediately start the album off with a sense of internal conflict and contradiction. 

 ultimately juxtaposes crushing sadness with uninhibited confidence. The melancholy side of the album is most clear in “Real Girl,” “Hey,” and “Blades of Ivory.” The spoken monologue of “Real Girl” is self-righteous and entirely apathetic, yet it is also something a trans person could realistically encounter. The digital filter on the words adds another layer of iciness. The song portrays exclusion and the denial of a queer person’s identity, even calling the protagonist “someone who doesn’t even know themselves,” as if this is something unusual or shameful in the first place. Conversely, “Hey” is overwhelmingly sad in a minimalistic manner. Reverberating piano chords and fluttering vocals give this song a raw feeling and demonstrate that, even with the bare minimum, LLVX can evoke strong emotions. Finally, “Blades of Ivory,” featuring the voice of Anabelle Accetta-Beman, provides an ambient pause with a haunting monologue that utilizes dramatic imagery and dark wording. In all of these more sorrowful tracks, listeners get the feeling that something fragile is about to shatter under pressure.

However, interlaced with this fragility are songs that boast aggressive confidence. This tone is most prominent in songs like “Can You” and “You Thought That It Was Over.” “Can You” employs a warrior-type drumbeat that fills in with a cymbal crash just before one minute in. In general, the percussion in “Can You” melds perfectly with the melody and uses screechy synths to top it off. The song builds with the repetition of the lyric “Can you see?” and ultimately questions why people think they can exert control over others. Later, “You Thought That It Was Over” sees LLVX’s confidence rise again. The percussion here is chaotic and tinny sounding, and the clipped, echoing vocals bring a dramatic sense of anticipation. The song never pauses and never quiets down. Rather, it simply continues gaining force.

also sees LLVX put a more subtle form of confidence on display. “Fix,” for example, takes on a much calmer tone. It features smoky vocals from LLVX that often, very deliberately, quiver and flutter. This contrasts well with the smooth vocals of hyphenviii. Still, with its bass line, high hats, and murmured vocals, “Fix” maintains an aura of confidence. The song gradually makes its way from a furtive, intimate sound to a more free and airy sound. Both styles are lovely, but the metamorphosis of one into the other makes “Fix” even more notable. The song asks “Let me see you, I’ll let you see me” and commands, “Fix your eyes on me,” adding further to the unapologetic tone. “Waste Mine” is similarly confident, but has its own sweet and earthy sound due to its keyboard loop and percussion. Thanks to LLVX’s whispered vocals and a build-up of synths, “Waste Mine” progresses farther and farther into a beautiful and emotional abstraction. Also checking off the box of quiet confidence is the song “Cold.” The vocals initially feel icy, as the title would suggest, but slowly evolve into the chorus of sorts, “Can you feel it burning up?” Still, the percussion comes front and center. It is a mixture of what sounds like clinking coins, a rattle, and a stuttering lower percussion part. Not to mention, LLVX also uses “Ha ha ha” vocals as a sort of percussion. The concluding saxophone solo by Nathan Tang adds another layer of unanticipated warmth and flavor to the song.

The final track, “Wash,” successfully incorporates both the sadness and quiet power seen throughout the rest of the album, but also stands on its own. The track feels like a gentle release after the emotionally exhausting journey that is 

. The guitar part here is beautiful and unexpected, but LLVX incorporates it seamlessly. The harmonies here are fitting to the title, and the progression of the melody is beautiful. While the lyrics are extremely sad – “Feel the sky turn gray, wash my voice away” – they also feel somewhat cleansing and peaceful. The vocals, featuring Joyce M. Zheng, have a clear, refreshing sound. The ending feels like a literal wash of nearly abstract vocals, guitar, and synths. If the album starts with an angry red, it ends with a peaceful snow-white. Finally, the last few seconds of the album feature something of a circular ending. Just as the listener recognizes the sounds of a gender reveal party from the beginning of 

, it also becomes clear that the monologue has changed to “She’s a girl!” This tiny change suggests a shift towards the resolution of inner conflict. It seems to indicate the protagonist’s approach to self-acceptance and empowerment.

is a treasure trove of overwhelming emotions and creative sounds. The album has strong dynamics wherein the songs lift and then pummel the listener, only to lift them back up again. There are no boring moments in LLVX’s album – 

is a touching chapter in what is sure to be a thrilling story.


LLVX’s "Eyes" is an intense exploration of identity

Jesse Liam Gauthier is a professional singer/songwriter based in Rhode Island. His father, Jack Gauthier, is a Grammy-nominated music engineer. Together, the two musicians create a lively and communal atmosphere through their father-son harmonies. On tour in New England, they are also joined by drummer Michael DeQuattro, a Boston Conservatory alumnus. Catch the Jesse Liam Band at Faneuil Hall this Friday, September 17, from 5-7 p.m.

First, I read that you and your father have co-written some songs and that you also co-produce a lot of songs, so I was wondering if you could tell me more about what that dynamic is like, and also how you and your father ended up working together on music?

Sure! It all started being a little kid and my dad being in the music business since before I was born as a recording engineer. He’s had his recording studio here in Rhode Island where we reside, and he’s had that for about thirty or so years now. He’s worked with so many different types of musicians, even managing – really well-known in blues music – this guy called Duke Robillard, a world-famous blues guitarist. So I grew up always loving music, and my dad knew that I loved music. He’d always hear me singing around the house, and I’d always sing along to what he was playing on the guitar. It kinda just started organically, naturally. Just kind of meant to be in a way.

I’m very lucky that I had a mentor like him who’s been in the business and, since I was very young, being a huge fan of music and learning so much about the business and so many aspects that the average listener just doesn’t get exposed to. Then he saw me do a bunch of musicals and be in the chorus in high school, and he noticed I had a great voice, so we’d just practice. I would sing every song that he would be playing…After a while, we had like a setlist together of just, you know, that kinda classic 70s rock stuff that he would always play around the house, and we went to some open mics down the street from our house. He had been in bands, of course, throughout college with his buddies. So he knew, how it was to not only perform…and how to cultivate a following…but he also knew about the part of…promoting yourself and calling these clubs and he knew all the rejection that could happen. So he’s like, I wanna give you that title if we’re gonna be in a band together, just the two of us. We started out just acoustic– you know with his guitar and me singin’ and he would sing the harmonies…and we started that one open mic, and then the bug just hit me, and I would just call any local restaurant or any local whatever that had live music and I would call them until they hired us. And of course, the more you do, the more connections you make, and you branch out to different areas.

That sort of starts to answer one of my next questions. In one of your older covers, “Long Champlain,” the lyrics say, “The radio my favorite toy.” So it sounds like you were also drawn to music early on. Was it always pretty clear to you that you wanted to be a musician?

Yeah…The first two records, that was actually written by another Boston singer-songwriter by the name of Todd Thibaud. He had been in the studio with my father for years with different projects that he recorded, and when we first started performing, I was mostly just an interpreter of songs. I always loved singing along to the radio. My father would always pick up whoever was the latest pop star at the moment –and this was going back to when I was really little, like with CDs– and that kinda introduced me to the pop world. And then of course all different generations of music were very timeless to me. I always kinda gravitated towards any kind of music, whether I had heard it in a film, or he had played it around the house or gave me a CD of it. I always gravitate towards music nonstop, even today. I’m always listening and learning from music – and just loving music.

So Todd Thibaud…he saw that I was just kind of interpreting songs at that time and hadn’t gone through many life experiences, so that’s why I was more of just a singer at that point. And he lent us some of his songs because he’s a local singer-songwriter…It was kinda also helping his music get out there by letting us record it at the time. But yeah I definitely gravitate toward the lyrics [of “Long Champlain”]. I picked the songs that really touch me the most…I just wanted to sing about stuff that just made us feel good and connect to people.

And then, we put out some EPs. We would put one out every year to keep the momentum going with my music. We could also start writing our own music because that songwriter, Todd…he encouraged me to start writing my own music. So he gave me a journal, and he was like, “Just write anything down. The more you live, the more experiences you can write about,” and that’s what I’ve always learned even from writing classes in school. They always say, “Write what you know.” …By the time of the third record, I’d lived more life. We started writing our own [songs]: everything I had written in the journal. And my dad would help me with the melodies on guitar, and then I was so blessed to work with so many great studio musicians to add the music to it.

And now as a vocalist, instrumentalist, songwriter, and producer, do you find yourself drawing inspiration from very different places for each of these skills?

Definitely. Like I said, listening to music is the best schooling when it comes to learning about all different production techniques and of course songwriting, listening to the great songwriters of our time and from the past. Just learning how to articulate. You can write something in a journal…but then it also takes a creative muscle that you have to keep working on to kind of put it in a more poetic or edgy way that grabs people, and then the music comes along with it: finding melodies, the instrumentation.

Right, and then you also mentioned getting some of your stylistic inspirations through connections and through your father. So some of your music has folk influences and there are some country influences in there also. Do you sometimes pick up on those styles from places you go or other people you meet, for example?

I do meet a lot of people, and everybody’s got their own unique tastes and music, and I love exploring what other people share with me…I’ll bring [my dad] some new materials just like he’ll show me the classics, and [we] just kind of learn from each other. When it pertains to the genre of music– and that’s what’s kind of cool about music nowadays– there’s a lot of blurred lines when it comes to genres.

…I just always gravitated toward anything with a catchy melody. I almost had blinders when it came to genre. Anything that would make me feel good, make me feel upbeat, and also what we would love to do with our show. We understand the fact that we are performing in front of all ages, especially at things like outdoor concert series and festivals. We love picking popular music, and everybody’s always complimenting that there’s always something for everybody…I love seeing everybody having a good time. I can sing Bruno Mars one moment, …and then I can turn around the next moment and sing a Beatles song…Making people happy and incorporating everybody. It’s a communal kind of thing. That’s why I’m so excited for Faneuil Hall because I know there’s going to be all walks of life. It’s a challenge, but such a reward to perform in front of multi-generations and just kind of captivate them all and see their smiles. It’s what I love doing, and it makes me feel blessed to be able to do that and to make people happy, especially in crazy times. Music is just so powerful. You can see it playing at a local bar…in a sense, when you’re singing a song, they’re all kind of connected for that one moment and forget about everything that was bothering them for the day…It’s a healer for me as well. It’s just getting lost in all these different worlds…Even performing at nursing homes, I also do that as a side kind of thing. It’s just so inspiring to see these people – …just that power that [music] can just revive somebody in a way.

Definitely. It really is a beautiful thing.

Even playing in Finland. When we performed in Finland– you’d be surprised, they just love American music…And I remember just being at so many different local venues over there. Everybody, all ages again…Sometimes you forget that you’re overseas because they’re singing every word to Bruno Mars or whatever it may be and they’re just so happy too…So that was a really cool experience.

Yeah, I was actually just about to ask you about that tour in Finland. Can you tell me more about how that 2019 tour in Finland started?

Sure…I work really hard to get our band to get out there and to perform…There are a few other handful times– which is a great blessing that my dad’s in the business of recording– he had managed and also records [Duke] Robillard…and he had been in Finland on one of his tours, and then he brought a Finnish band back to Rhode Island. Duke and my dad had recorded and produced a record for this Finnish band that was here….Of course, what’s also cool, is what my dad does is, I swear he would have been a psychiatrist in his next life….[the music artists] feel safe, and they can kind of express themselves, which in turn puts out good music from these artists because they can feel comfortable with him…So he met this band, and they kind of hit it off…And of course, he invited me to come down to the studio and meet the guys, and they were so gracious. Got to learn a lot about their perspective of music…And we had been dying to get over there. Through this business, you got to persist and just kind of keep going even when there’s hard times or people rejecting you, or people promising things that don’t ever happen….It’s a very nice gesture in the moment because…it’s just the compliment of how they’re enjoying our music. But it was really cool that one of the guys from that Finnish band followed through, and he booked about six shows for us over there. And I gotta say that it was the trip of a lifetime. It’s so indescribable how awesome it was, and just the reaction: everybody loved the music and the father-son aspect of it…We probably hit about 10 different cities starting in Helsinki, the capital…my dad and I were getting a taste of the touring life, especially in Europe, which was so cool…I would have never thought to go there.

Yeah, it sounds like you’ve had a lot of unique experiences as a musician, which is pretty cool.

The more you do, the more you get connected. It kind of fuels you if you get one gig…It’s a very appreciative and humbling experience to see your hard work, kind of grow through the years. And of course, exposed to everything that my dad has exposed me to in the business and being able to record like six albums which, a lot of people don’t get to do that, and I know how blessed I am. But yeah, it’s all learning. It’s all about, like they say, the journey and where it takes you and everything you learn along the way.

Yeah, and then in terms of the style– I know in your 2020 album, some of the songs had sort of like a seaside feel and other songs from, 2017’s “Come on My Way” also gave sort of a beach party feeling. So is that a style that you plan to explore further? Or do you think you’ll be delving more into the pop side like with your latest single “Elite”? Or are you kind of open to exploring everything right now?

Yeah, definitely. I mean, I love to have a good time with music, and I started out, I still love all genres, but I love exploring– each album having something, a different taste for everybody, and a different side of me in a way. But yeah, I love that kind of beachy sound. I’ve always, especially lately, been loving all that tropical house music…So if you know this band Dispatch, they’re out of Boston…They were in the studio with my father, so about like 20 or so years ago…Of course, my dad had gotten friendly with them. My whole family did– we grew up with them…And we watched them have jam sessions, which is not your average…you wouldn’t see that growing up, so that was really awesome. So [Pete Francis] from that band…he’s starting to do his own solo stuff now away from the Dispatch band, but we’re still great friends with their family…We were like, “We have a song. We’d love to work with you.” …We got to produce a track with him and his keyboardist. “Yeah, Yeah Dance” was the first one, and then “Come on My Way” was the second one…And then we brought it back to my dad’s studio, and he had these excellent horn musicians put the trumpets on there. It’s so cool to explore because “Yeah, Yeah Dance” kind of has a hip hop/pop element to it, and then “Come on My Way” has that tropical, horn/trumpet sound to it.

And then on the 2020 album, we worked with Pete again. But we made more of like an acoustic kind of thing, “Through the Night”. That’s what’s so cool is that he’s so diverse. And we got to work with his programmer, and I love sprinkling all different sounds on the record. And of course, we do love to throw in the cover songs…It’s a great way to introduce new music and the creative songs that we’ve written, mixed in with all those popular songs. And then…last year, we released “The Light That Follows Me Home”…the pandemic kind of kept going, but I had so many creative lyrics and songs that I wanted to put together. So there was one song that I had written…right before the pandemic happened– like we had gotten back that March, and then everything kind of shut down. So then I kind of took that inspiration and made it into this like, exciting, brand new– you can interpret any way you want– a brand new adventure, “Elite”.

And then we hooked up with our friend Pete Francis, and we actually hooked up with his keyboardist again…And we gave him like an acoustic– just my band and I– voice memo. And then I told my influences at the time…And he brought it back, and I was just like, almost in tears, it was just so exciting to find a song that I was like…You know how musicians can be, you can always like, nitpick everything…I’m always hearing my voice when I’m performing, so I’m not really listening to my songs on a daily basis. But I was like, “Man, this track is so sick that I would definitely, like listen to this a lot.”…I had secretly also worked on a music video with my dad’s cousin, who was also a director out in Los Angeles…So that’s the latest single that we’re promoting now…

Yeah, it’s very exciting. And then, as the last question, just to end with a more broad question: what kind of atmosphere do you hope to create with your music? Or in other words, how do you want people to feel when they listened to your music or come to your shows like the one this Friday?

…You want the atmosphere to just feel happy, just good. The world is pretty crazy right now– it kind of always has been, but that’s what I love about music: it can brighten somebody’s day. I love incorporating everybody into the show, too…I love incorporating dance into what I’m doing. And I love feeling the music and then them feeling it. It’s such a two-way street. And they always say that too: how they love the energy. It’s just the positive energy that we love to bring. I love to moving to the music and just feeling it naturally and performing like I always wanted to as a kid, and like all the greats I would watch growing up. I want to make people feel excited…I always announce to them, “Whenever you come to our show, it’s incorporative.” There are parts where…it’s like a call and response kind of thing. It just makes people feel part of the show…The main way I can describe it is, I would love the atmosphere to just be communal…There’s no wall between us. And we just have a good party, like just have a good way to forget about all the bad things goin’ on.

Comments from Jack Gauthier, father in the father-son duo:

Would you like to tell me more about what you think about the dynamic that you guys have? What it’s like working on music together?

Well…even though we come from very much different influences, certainly – although I get to see some of my music playing around the house… I think it’s interesting that we both really do like the same thing even if it’s a different generation of music. We both like that same kind of upbeat, pop quality to things. And so I think that’s part of what makes our sound a little different, too, is obviously taking his influences, my influences. And, you know, we’re always working at it, compromising and just get to a point where we both say, we really like it…It’s a given that, you know, it’s a great joy and a rare gift to be able to play music with my son all these years. So, first and foremost, important thing. And I think too, you know, there’s that unique quality of having family harmony, which is, you know…a lot of times there’s brother bands and sister bands, not oftentimes as a father and son, you know, singing together really, you know? So that’s been kind of our trademark too. And of course, Jesse’s, you know, boundless energy, which is always fun to watch.

Since he was very, very little, you know, before he could speak, you could see he was singing…it was always just part of our life. And it was very organic how it all went together that we ended up performing together…And you know, also a lot of the great musicians I’ve worked with in my studio through all the years – obviously, a great help to the recordings that we’ve done. You know, even putting a band together to perform…Michael DeQuattro was our drummer. And he’ll be there on Friday…he was actually a Boston Conservatory graduate… and when we do a tour normally we have a full band, we have Steve Johnson on bass – he won’t be there [Friday], but he’s with us usually too.

But we oftentimes will do this trio work out where it’s just me on guitar and Jesse, singing together, and Mike playing percussion. He brings so much energy. He makes us dance. But yeah, he learned from being at the Conservatory to be a hand percussionist for drummers and for dancers…he’s been accompanying dancers professionally for the last 20 years…

Jesse Liam Gauthier, Jack Gauthier, and Mike DeQuattro will be performing at Faneuil Hall on Friday 9/17 from 5-7 p.m., and the Jesse Liam Band will represent Rhode Island at the Eastern States Exposition in Springfield, MA on 9/21.

Q&A: Jesse Liam Gauthier discusses his love of music and performance

, Alex Toth, or Tōth, leans into his deliberately awkward style. Overall, the album has a borderline playful sound, with fun twists on vocal range, quirky instrumentation, and down-to-earth lyrics. The most effective songs on the album are those where Tōth uses this peculiar style to convey more heartfelt sentiments. 

 is unsuspecting and pleasant, with surprisingly touching moments sprinkled throughout.

Many of the songs on the album have a straightforward and unashamedly cringeworthy sound. In “Guitars Are Better Than Synthesizers for Writing Through Hard Times,” the very first lyric in the track declares, “I feel weird.” It is an unusual but honest beginning, and these simple lyrics help to make the song feel extremely realistic – some sadness is best described without the frills. Tōth runs with this self-aware sound when he adds cheesy synths and gives a stumbling nature to the vocals. Although these components sometimes detract from the sad undertones of the song, the ending of “Guitars Are Better Than Synthesizers for Writing Through Hard Times” sees the use of harmonies and an electric guitar part that pull everything together. In the same manner, “Daffadowndilly,” a collaboration with Flock of Dimes, utilizes absolutely pitiful lyrics. Tōth sings, “Thank you for making everything totally meaningless” and “Just do the worst you could do to me.” Strings and harmonies allow the song to come off as a tragic ballad, yet the gentle acoustic guitar and the pained main vocals ground “Daffadowndilly” in vulnerability. The lyrics might have been laughable without these stylistic choices, but when the awkward lines are coupled with such cognizant instrumentation, Tōth achieves a genuine and moving sound.

Aside from the more conspicuously sorrowful songs, there are also songs on the album that play with sweeter feelings. In the dreamy “Angie,” a collaboration with Angelica Bess, Tōth sings “Thank you for inhabiting my heart.” The production of the song is pleasantly muddy, which furthers the feeling that the song is a reverie of sorts. While “You and Me and Everything” has more clarity in its production, it has a similar dreamlike feel. Interestingly, this title track is really more of an interlude. At a brief one minute and eleven seconds, “You and Me and Everything” is again simplistic in its lyrics, but it manages to convey feelings of admiration, appreciation, and awe. Heavily layered vocals and a build-up of harmonies allow the song to bloom even within its short time span. In general, songs like “Angie” and “You and Me and Everything” give Tōth’s album a more delicate side.

The album also concludes with an exploration of this gentler realm. “Bloom” is a lush soundscape filled with synth pads, smooth percussion, and musing vocals. “The Driving” maintains this rich sound but also brings back Tōth’s blunt lyrics. “What the fuck am I supposed to do without someone like you?” he laments. This final song is a fitting representation of Tōth’s ability to blend the painful and the pitiful, or the fantastical and playful. 

ultimately comes together to be a perfectly deceiving album. Disguised in awkwardness are heartfelt themes that end up being more powerful when communicated in Tōth’s self-aware manner.

Tōth’s ‘You and Me and Everything’ is a lovely kind of awkward

Under the name Fog Lake, Aaron Powell has released a vast discography of nostalgic and sorrowful lo-fi music. With the latest Fog Lake release, 

, Powell continues to deliver songs that are distinctly melancholy and poetic. Although he sticks to his signature sound, he also uses 

 to venture into a more personal realm than those he has explored previously. The album features more specific and personal lyrics, while maintaining Fog Lake’s poetic style of writing. 

ultimately offers up exactly what avid Fog Lake listeners would hope for and even cuts a bit closer to the heart than usual, in part due to a gentler approach. The album takes on a tone that is wistful and, for the most part, acts as a soft-spoken but powerful reminder of the past. Taking full advantage of the lo-fi genre, Fog Lake’s 

The album is decidedly sad, as would be expected from Powell. In fact, some of the songs sound almost foreboding. “Sullivan” utilizes minimal instrumentation and lyrics like, “The bodies you invade all outlined on pavement now,” to establish this haunting sound. Similarly, “Crystalline” has an eerie feel that is brought about by the vocals being nearly drowned out by somewhat dissonant instrumentation. Even at the end of this song, as the dissonance fades, murky synth pads fill the space between more deliberate piano chords and guitar strums that are slow enough to allow each string to be heard individually.

However, many of the other songs on the album are comparatively less eerie and more wistful. As tends to happen when a song is named after a specific place or a specific person, “Dakota” is one of the more intimate-feeling songs on the album. With the entrance of sweet-sounding strings and the addition of vocal layers, the song sounds as if Powell is revisiting a memory and then floating back out of it. Still, the peak of nostalgia in 

 is unequivocally “Crocodile.” Powell uses a gentle guitar part that lends the song an uncharacteristically peaceful and pleasant mood, but there is also a bittersweet edge in the piano part and the nearly-whispered vocals. The most surprising and perhaps most successful aspect of “Crocodile” are the “Oh’s” in the background that sound as if they have been put through a vocoder. Powell’s whispery vocals even sing along with these “Oh’s,” which comes as something of a surprise. This is a format of vocals that one might expect to hear from an artist with a happier discography, yet Powell claims the syrupy style as his own and successfully conveys the bittersweet feeling associated with so many memories. Finally, the use of strings amps up in “Pity Party” and “June” to conclude the album with a sweetly tragic tone that is fitting to its sorrowful themes. More so than previous Fog Lake projects, 

hones in on a deep-seated feeling of nostalgia.

Within this nostalgic album are more specific ideas of confusion, futility, and reflection that are carried through the lyrics. In “Dakota,” Powell seems to grapple with the thought of letting go of what he once had with someone. His internal conflict is on full display in lyrics such as, “cause I wouldn’t wanna stay here with you / but I don’t wanna leave here without you.” Powell draws another comparison when he sings, “I put the past away / at least till it came back again.” These lyrics use juxtaposition to convey the feeling of being torn as things change with time. In the same vein, some of the lyrics in 

 place an emphasis on the fact that all things come to an end, and the end is not always pleasant. “Crocodile” sees Powell describing “the last of our teenage days.” He recalls, “You cried all the time / Until your heart finally went cold / Faded red to blue / Condensed the summer into poems.” Both the lyrics and the instrumentation suggest that these teenage days are missed, and yet Powell makes it clear that these days now exist only in memory and perhaps in the poetic lyrics of songs like this one. Finally, both “Catacombs” and “June” offer a cynical reflection on where Powell and the people he knows are now. “Catacombs” beautifully describes a certain hollow feeling with “You see it too / All the catacombs running through you.” This same truth, the emptiness lying at the center of things, is described in “June” as Powell seems to form an analogy between flings of empty love and drug use. He offers a warning to the person who is the subject of the song, saying, “but I’d be careful what / You’re doing out there baby / cause it’s always over by June.” The lyrics in 

 reflect on intimacy and change in a multifaceted manner.

 is anchored in Fog Lake’s signature sound, but explores softer regions of sadness and takes listeners on a more personal journey. Powell does all this while meeting the high lyrical standards set by his previous releases. 

is well balanced in its wistful descriptions of the past, dejected observations of the present, and angst-ridden contemplations of change.

Fog Lake’s ‘Tragedy Reel’ is a poetic expression of nostalgia

After moving base from London to LA, Flyte have returned with an album that excels in portraying quiet heartbreak. 

 puts much of its focus on the idea of the end of a long-term relationship. The depth of this subject matter is conveyed with hard-hitting accuracy through use of clever lyrics and gentle but moving vocals. Although the words being sung take center stage most of the time, the album also includes meticulously chosen instrumentation. There can be no doubt that Flyte paid careful attention to the arrangement of the songs on the album and how they all connect to one another. All of these components, from lyrics to chronology, allow 

From the start, Flyte’s album takes an approach that is distinct from that of a typical piece covering heartbreak. The first song, “Easy Tiger,” warns, “Easy tiger / This is only gonna get worse” and “We’re both survivors / But this is really going to hurt.” While the lyrics seem to be directed towards the person on the other end of the torn relationship, they also serve as a warning for the listener, preparing them for the rest of the album. This clever introduction also takes on a beaten-down tone. The singer acknowledges the little things that hurt him after the end of this relationship, but does this in a manner that is surprisingly mellow. Where many would expect anger or uninhibited misery, Flyte instead offer up the simple feeling of weariness, and this is somehow much more painful and convincing.

The rest of the album follows suit. The lyrics on 

are so persuasive because they do not sugarcoat the sad truth, nor do they exaggerate the simple sources of heartache. Perhaps the most vulnerable songs are “Losing You” and “Everyone’s A Winner,” and even these songs maintain Flyte’s commitment to speaking plainly. On “Losing You,” the band makes use of imagery and specificity to bring a personal element to the song. For instance, they write “And you were wearing that red dress / When you took him upstairs / The one I bought you in New York / Before you made this mess.” With lines like these, the listener is coaxed into imagining the exact scenario described – whether they can directly relate or not. The format in which seemingly trivial details are juxtaposed with more broad-reaching statements carries through into the emotional nadir of the album: “Everyone’s A Winner.” This song starts each verse with a general, comforting sentence one might find on a wall of inspirational quotes. “Everything is sacred,” they sing, and then go on to list a series of exceptions to the rule. One of the most biting lines comes when “Everything’s forever” is followed by, “Except the friends who must choose / Which one of us they wish to lose.” With their wistful vocals, Flyte succinctly express the feeling that the writer’s life has been ripped apart because it was so thoroughly intertwined with someone else’s. In their understated way, Flyte use lyrics to pull together a story that touches on cynical nostalgia, bitterness, and weary acceptance of the truth.

Still, songs like “Mistress America” might trick listeners into thinking 

will be a monotonous indie folk album. This song is filled with metallic guitar, the percussion is heavy on high frequencies, and the vocals sound Beatles-esque. While the song is still a lovely dive into a more folk sound, it is definitely for the best that much of the album features some stylistic twists. Apart from portraying the different emotional angles associated with heartache, Flyte use instrumentation to add some variety. For instance, “Easy Tiger” includes a string part that is so subtle as to be barely noticeable in the beginning. However, these strings build up and, while it sounds like a cello section is sawing away at their instruments, a sense of anticipation is created. Similarly, “Under the Skin” builds an exciting air of urgency through a repetitive piano part in the background. On the other hand, the looped vocal sample that fills the background of “Trying To Break Your Heart” creates more of an upbeat atmosphere that allows the self-deprecating lyrics to stand out further. All of these cautiously chosen components ebb away for the last song, where everything is once again stripped to the beautiful vocals and guitar that sit at the core of the album. “Never Get To Heaven” is a wonderfully soft conclusion to the album, both in terms of composition and lyrics.

Just as the sound of this final song is more minimal, the lyrics are comparatively less bitter. The sorrow that lingers over the album remains, but there is also a sense of sweetness and commitment. The lyrics note that “You’ll never get to heaven in an empty shell,” and offer up “But I’ll be there when you want me to.” The album would not be what it is without this ending. While the rest of the album resides in the sadness of losing a close relationship, “Never Get To Heaven” makes it clear that some love remains at the end of this story. Harmonies are used to emphasize pained lyrics like, “I just wanna shut my eyes / and wash you clean.” And yet, the song is ultimately an offering of comfort: it suggests that, while the ordeal cannot be forgotten, it is not entirely worth forgetting. In order from beginning to end, Flyte’s 

is a journey of loss and realization after heartbreak.

Flyte’s ‘This Is Really Going To Hurt’ really does hurt

Wye Oak has had no problem diversifying their sound in the past, but the 

 EP takes an even more unexpected – and gratifying – direction. The entire EP was recorded in collaboration with the Brooklyn Youth Chorus, and this partnership gives the project a distinctive sound. The EP drifts between different moods and makes use of more digitized sounds right alongside the raw vocals from both the Youth Chorus and Jenn Wasner of the Wye Oak duo. Minor tweaks in song structure could have helped to highlight each song’s strengths, but the overall EP is a refreshing and creative venture.

takes on an unanticipated sound. The first track of the album, “AEIOU,” includes the Brooklyn Youth Chorus chanting “A, E, I, O, U” in the background along with subtle vocals that are chopped up to the point of sounding percussive. However, the song quickly takes on a warmer feeling as an array of beautiful vocal harmonies are layered on. A slow, reverb-heavy guitar lick then adds to the warm atmosphere. The notes in this guitar part bleed into one another, as if each one is oversaturated with emotion. The same sense of care is given to Wasner’s tender vocals. Setting a trend for the rest of the EP, her voice arcs between soft and powerful, fitting for the lyrics. Wasner sings, “If you speak my name / Use my real name / The one I gave myself / A word can suggest my likeness / As a painting / Suggests distance.” Finally, the occasional rumble of drums and piano hints at Wye Oak’s more familiar sound. As the first track of the EP, however, “AEIOU” is a clear indication of the inventiveness that follows.

Interplay between Wasner’s vocals and the Brooklyn Youth Chorus vocals appears several times throughout the EP. In “No Place,” a call-and-response format is used with sung vocals versus a more heavily enunciated, spoken-word sound. This format helps to emphasize the striking, seemingly absurdist lyrics. Wasner and the chorus sing, “We live in a place / That is no place” and “When we are hungry / We eat our ideas.” Contrarily, in “Spitting Image,” the combination of the chorus and Wasner’s vocals showcase the vague but inherent emotion of the lyrics. In this track, they sing about understanding, clarity, and, as the EP title would suggest, the idea of “no horizons.” The final track of the EP, “Sky Witness,” also includes rather memorable lyrics that play on hidden meanings, such as “Trees in the wind are tapping / Morse code against my window.” Unfortunately, despite how well-written they are, the lyrics in this case are packed too densely to be appreciated at first, and no call-and-response format is used to give variety where it is needed. When the vocals evolve into a more legato sound, the emotion of the song becomes much clearer.

 experiments with unusual dynamics. At times, the EP takes on a bright and artificial sound, as heard in the intro of “Spitting Image,” yet within the same song it quickly reverts back to warm vocals and rock percussion. Other aspects, like the change from a major to minor key in “Sky Witness,” provide jarring but usually successful shifts in mood. In fact, “Sky Witness” does attempt to transition through a whole array of flavors, but this ends up distracting from the power of each individual section of the song.

EP is an example of the invigorating sound that can come from a good collaboration. While some song structures could use some refinement, the EP remains a resounding success. Wye Oak pairs arresting lyrics with often beautiful instrumentation, and the Brooklyn Youth Chorus adds a strong, surreal feeling to the EP that contrasts nicely with its rock and electronic elements.

Wye Oak’s collaborative EP ‘No Horizon’ is refreshing and creative

, has rewarding moments but doesn’t quite come together as a coherent album. 

 falls under the ambient genre, something which is made clear from the very beginning with the first track, “Prelude in MHz,” which consists solely of one tone. Unfortunately, most of the first half of the album feels somewhat wasted as far as ambient music goes. Rather than establishing a tangible atmosphere, the beginning of the album struggles to find a focus, and there is little to take away from it.

Despite this, the album does eventually change pace with the track “Roaming.” This track is centered around a pleasant loop, but considering how repetitive it is, the track lasts for far too long. Still, it does usher in the more pensive and compelling portion of the album. Specifically, it is followed by “How May I Help You?” This track is a highlight of the album by virtue of its ethereal sound design and a sense of movement that allows for emotion to be conveyed. The track is also characterized by an underwater-like atmosphere, perhaps due to low pass filters, which give a sense of disconnectedness. There are also accents of a glimmering bell-like sound, which, in being filtered like the rest of the sounds, further emphasizes the muted mood of the track.

From this point on, Photay successfully connects the tracks on the album into a story-like format. “Peak Bandwidth” has a broader pitch range while still maintaining the disconnected, underwater atmosphere from “How May I Help You?” This time around, the higher-pitched accent synths cut through more clearly. Additionally, Photay seems to have amplified lighter as well as darker sounds. Just as “How May I Help You?” progresses to “Peak Bandwidth,” “Hold On” is carefully crafted to reach the next step up. This track takes on a quivering sound through delay as well as a chorus- or harmony-type effect on the synths. It ebbs and flows in a way that furthers the sense of movement that was established earlier in the album with “Roaming.” Ultimately, “Hold On” lives up to its name – due to the deliberate trembling from the delay effect and the waves of sound rising and dying down again, the song sounds like someone struggling to pull themselves out of a dark place. This goal is also achieved in the track “March 10, 1876,” in which all the sounds are much sharper. Still, there is a shaky sensation that lends the song a fragile quality, as if this newfound peace could fall apart at any second. The song is completed by long, unwavering tones that enter every 30 seconds or so, and beautifully fill the role of a steadying force amid the otherwise uncertain sounds in the track. Named after the date of Alexander Graham Bell’s first successful trial of the telephone, “March 10, 1876” is perhaps the most thoughtful song on the album, both in title and in sound. In fact, Bell is known to have written a letter following the success of his invention, saying that it would allow “friends [to] converse with each other without leaving home.” Fitting to the idea of overcoming isolation, “March 10, 1876” exudes hope.

Unfortunately, the final track “Peace in Perpetuity” is a surprisingly dark conclusion to the album. There is a great deal of static and low bass noises in the background as well as an echoing quality to the static. While the sound of the track is interesting, it is not the ending the rest of the album seems to lead up to. Even the title, “Peace in Perpetuity,” falsely primes the audience to expect more of a tranquil sound. Whether it was intended or not, the song comes across as disappointingly bleak.

Overall, despite a slow start and a disheartening conclusion, several songs at the core of Photay’s 

 are beautifully crafted and meticulously thought out. These tracks make the album well worth a full and chronological listen.

Photay’s ‘On Hold’ is at times disappointing, but thoughtful at the core

Brooklyn-based Daniel Lopatin, or Oneohtrix Point Never, has a distinct sound, owing to the diverse and unpredictable instrumentation he uses in his music. This exploratory style is continued in his latest album, 

, released on October 30th. The album is characterized by a gradation from its abstract-leaning beginning, to its more emotional and melodic conclusion.

“Cross Talk I” is only 22 seconds long, but serves as an unsettling start to the album. Standing alone, the lyrics “this is the start of morning/this is where you should be/wake up!” suggest a cheerful and tacky mood. However, “Cross Talk I” also has the distorted, fuzzy sound one might hear in an advertisement from the 1960s. A record-skipping effect is the final touch on the track’s eerie sound, which is seen again in later interludes “Cross Talk II” and “Cross Talk III.”

“Cross Talk I” leads into the twinkly “Auto & Allo,” in which every instrument and vocal track initially has an all-or-none nature, until a slowdown accompanied by the lyrics “I know a place to go.” This slowdown is helped along by soaring strings, echoing synths, and a surprisingly noticeable bass guitar part. The vocals remain heavily modulated, a recurring decision that continues throughout the album.

The section that follows “Cross Talk II” feels noticeably more emotional than the previous songs. Although, it incorporates a more noticeable beat, “I Don’t Love Me Anymore” feels like the calmer, more melodic section the album was beginning to need. However, there is still an element of dissonance in this song that ends up distracting from the beautiful soundscape it would have created otherwise.

Luckily, the album slowly develops a more balanced sound. “Bow Ecco” slowly comes to life with swells of synths and sharp tremolo-like sounds. The ending of “The Whether Channel” benefits from an even clearer soundscape. It has a crisp composition with a whimsical feeling at points. The rap part of this song also ends up being a refreshing accent to the album. Before “Cross Talk III,” Oneohtrix Point Never throws in “No Nightmares.” This song has a smooth and clean sound that beautifully carries the simple repeating lyric “no nightmares.” A quiet middle section includes a heartbeat-like sound before reverberant synths flood in. The dynamics of this song were well-planned and make it a highlight of the album.

Other songs like “Tales From The Trash Stratum” are less formulaic, but use sounds that would be beautiful even standing alone. “Imago” is similarly successful with its fleeting moments of near-silence that make the pulses of instrumentation all the more entrancing. In this case, the non-musical sounds, like static, manage to complement the warmth of the song rather distracting from it.

Other highlights from the album include “Lost But Never Alone,” “Shifting,” and “Nothing’s Special.” “Lost But Never Alone” starts strong and uses effects on vocals along with a great deal of layering as the song goes on. Notable contrasts in volume show up again in this song, cementing exaggerated dynamics as a motif of the album. Meanwhile, “Shifting” sounds ghostly and electronic with a creative use of chopped-up vocals. Finally, “Nothing’s Special” stands out in that the vocals remain pointedly modulated but are full of emotion. Adding on to the song’s impact are the inclusion of accents, such as distortion and wind instrument-like sounds. These accents slowly increase in occurrence, along with the addition of atmospheric synths, up until the defeated spoken line, “I think that’s probably it.” In this way, the album closes with a dejected mood as well as a hint of the unsettling feeling that was achieved through the interludes. 

 sometimes uses dissonance and abstract sounds to no effect. However, there are also several beautiful songs where experimental sounds add depth and make the songs all the more impactful. 

 creatively manipulates dynamics and instrumentation to make the album well worth a listen.

‘Magic Oneohtrix Point Never’ is mostly successful with its experimentation

Jack Wyllie, under the moniker Paradise Cinema, released his first full-length album. The eight-track album was recorded in Dakar, Senegal, and offers a taste of the thriving music scene there. Specifically, the album hints at the mbalax dance music of Senegal and Gambia. This genre originated from the sabar music of the Wolof people, but now includes influences from a vast array of other African popular music. In the album’s 

, Wyllie explains that the mbalax influence is paired with subtle electronic elements that suggest “utopian ideas about [Dakar’s] potential futures.” With 

, Wyllie has created an ambience that reflects traditions of the past alongside a sense of anticipation for the future. He explains that while in Dakar, the music would often be heard all through the night—until about 6 a.m. In his notes he writes, “I could hear this from my bed at night and it all blended together, in what felt like an early version of the record.”

Although a multi-instrumentalist himself, Wyllie also collaborated with Khadim Mbaye and Tons Sambe on sabar drums and tama drums, respectively. Throughout the LP, these rhythms appear and disappear in between the fog of synth pads. They demand the listener’s attention at some points, most notably at the start of the album with “Possible Futures” and at the conclusion with “Eternal Spring.” However, the rhythms are more understated when they are used to complement wind instruments as in the heavy song, “Casamance,” and the somewhat eerie “Paradise Cinema.” In fact, in the middle of the album, “Utopia” takes a complete pause from these sabar and tama drum beats to give way to glimmering synths. The LP is meticulously crafted so that the drums emerge at just the right times and at just the right pace throughout the album. Not to mention, both percussive and melodic musical phrases are looped to create a gradual build in nearly every song on the album.

In general, Wyllie strikes an impressive balance between an often distant, hazy quality and more insistent, crisp sections. “Possible Futures” is a remarkable start to the LP, and makes the synth pads sound nearly orchestral, while slowly pushing a rich drum beat to the forefront during the first half of the track. The album suddenly takes on a more frenetic sound with “It Will Be Summer Soon.” The tempo is faster, and a wind instrument is added in. First, only one wind instrument is heard. However, towards the end of the track, the wind instrument is put through a mesmerizing delay effect. This frantic energy is reflected in other tracks later in the album, like “Digital Palm.” “Casamance” features a staggering wind instrument part that is smooth but also bold at times. After the fast pace of “It Will Be Summer Soon” and the attention-grabbing solo of “Casamance,” “Utopia” stands out as the most minimal track on the album. Still, it very successfully evokes the idea it is named for. The soft and dreamy electronic instrumentation immediately brings to mind the coolness and beauty of a futuristic cityscape.

The track “Liberté” then brings back the persistent drumming introduced at the start of the album, and is also a point of interest as it incorporates mbira or marimba-like sounds at the end. The diversity of style in the album is vast, but everything is tastefully blended together such that the Senegalese instruments and digital synths seem as though they are meant to be combined.

Wyllie, Mbaye, and Sambe close out the album with the strongest piece. In “Eternal Spring,” the drums are central at the beginning of the piece and even have enough pitch that they could be considered the melody. Then, in a way that is just startling enough to generate chills, bass-heavy synths fill in. The song concludes with an atmosphere reminiscent of jangling bells but with a slightly digitized feel. Overall, the album creates a palpable atmosphere through its juxtaposition of rhythm and tones, beautiful traditions and hopes for the future. 

 is a dreamy, wonder-filled journey through the music scene of Dakar, Senegal.

Paradise Cinema’s first LP is immersive and dreamlike

Under the name “sir Was,” Swedish music artist Joel Wästberg released a new EP on the 28th of February. The EP follows the 2019 release of “Holding On to a Dream,” and serves as a dreamy segway into whatever the future may hold for sir Was.

The first song, also entitled “Letter,” comes in strong with a moveable beat and a dreamy atmosphere that is maintained through the following tracks. Initially, one hears the faint plucking of what sounds like a two-stringed Chinese fiddle – something like an erhu. This is paired with a staccato electric guitar loop which attractively accents the song’s percussion . The vocals in “Letter” indicate the style for the rest of the EP: Wästberg sounds like he is sharing a train of thought or a series of energetic musings. Cascades of fading delay effects gracefully hint at the conclusion of the song while an electric guitar solo packs the final punch.

The listener is then given a break with the piano and twinkly sounds of the second song, “Don’t Wait for Me.” After about three minutes of gradual build-up, sir Was begins to repeat the lyric “’cause I believe in you” with increasing strength. In general, the lyrics of this track are beautiful and resonate with listeners due to their broad simplicity. The components of the track give it the sound of an interlude, and take a step back from the danceable style of “Letter.” However, “Don’t Wait for Me” is unfortunately stretched thin over a duration of over five minutes.

Following this lengthy interlude, bells ring in the track “This Is My Bonus.” This track is wonderfully composed with a jangly beat and a catchy, rhythmic chorus. In fact, the chorus’ rhythmic quality comes from the fact that it consists of sentence fragments. Wästberg sings the lyrics, “get it, want it, need it, gotta have…”, which again sounds like a snippet of his thoughts. In the song Wästenberg also ponders some less ambiguous themes. He sings about chasing his own mind and “silly dreaming”. At one point Wästberg seems to assess his own ambitions saying, “I just wanna be somebody, somebody with money, fame, and glory/ I know it ain’t pretty”. Hence, with a variety of unclear sentence fragments and shockingly direct lines, “This Is My Bonus” provides much to think about. Finally, the instrumentation for the lower part of the song is crafted such that it adds a great deal of depth. The composition and lyrical choices of the song make it an obvious highlight of the EP.

Interestingly, sir Was uses a circular ending to conclude his EP. “Letter – Edit” is the final song, and seems to differ from “Letter” primarily in that it’s introduction is more of a fade-in than a steady build-up of layers. The similarity between the first and last songs of the EP may initially seem to feed into a frustrating repetition, but “Letter – Edit” is a surprisingly fitting conclusion. It neatly wraps up the EP with a sense of familiarity, and the satisfaction that a circular ending is meant to provide.

“Letter” serves as a dreamy segway into whatever sir Was’ future beholds

While on tour after the release of a new album, City and Colour stopped in Boston to perform at the Royale. City and Colour, the stage name for Canadian artist Dallas Green, had not released an album in four years before the release of 

 on October 4, 2019. The October 21 concert at the Royale featured Ruby Waters as the opening act.

Ruby Waters started her set off with gentle electric guitar paired with her low, raspy vocals, reminiscent of Amy Whinehouse. As she and her accompanying guitarist progressed through her set, the songs became more complex and more personal. The antepenultimate song they performed was a track that has yet to be released,“Honey.” This song immediately established a different mood with its intro which was more heavy on bass and what sounded like atmospheric synths. When her rhythmic vocals and a surprising touch of jazz saxophone came into the mix, the song’s sweet sound truly lived up to its name. Her concluding song was “Sweet Sublime,” another song well deserving of its title. This song features a beautiful sense of release at the chorus, during which Waters soulfully sings “Baby it’s been a long, long time that I’ve been stuck up in the sweet sublime / Four years ago I lost my mind– I think it’s gone for good this time.” With this cathartic finale, Ruby Waters concluded her performance having proved that she is an artist worth paying attention to.

While maintaining the warmth of Waters’ performance, City and Colour featured Green’s more steady style of vocals. Despite being slightly muddied by the extra noise involved with playing at a concert venue, it was still clear that Green’s voice was unwavering and clear as ever. The first song performed was the lead single“Astronaut,” in which Green sang about being a wanderer “feelin’ lucky to be lost.” His vocals soared high during the outer-space-focused lyrics, but dropped back down in intervals as he sang, “There’s poison, there’s silver / That’s home.” This was followed by a powerful guitar solo. Being from the point of view of an astronaut studying the Earth from afar, the song was aptly chosen as the start of the show, and it is a hint at the reflective attitude of the new City and Colour album as a whole.

The performance continued along this path with the next song being a reflection on the state of the world. In “Strangers,” the lyrics asked the audience, “Can we get back to loving each other?” Here, Green and his supporting band made excellent use of silence by carefully placing a pause just before diving into the strong, thought-provoking chorus. Moments like these were, of course, amplified by the fact that the music was live and therefore came in stark contrast to any pauses in the songs.

At this point the performance merged into a segment of songs that featured an eerie atmosphere generated primarily by distortion sounds. However, just as quickly, the audience found themselves listening to the more bluesy “If I Should Go Before You,” from the older album of the same name. This was the first of several songs in which Green harmonized with two of his bandmates for the last repeat of a verse or chorus, a powerful feature that is not as noticeable in some of the recorded versions of the songs.

Eventually, Green also performed a stripped down, acoustic version of “Little Hell” from his 2011 album. He firmly told the yelling members of the audience to quiet down with a simple “Shhh…you’re ruining it for everyone.” This song provided a break between the segments filled with guitar solos, drums, and distortion.

The highlights of the end of the show were most certainly the songs “Waiting…” and “Girl.” “Waiting” offered a dark, but optimistic perspective on the fate which awaits us all. Green extracted this idea from the song skillfully, by gradually darkening the sound of the song but still singing the same lyrics, each time urging the listener to “hold your head up high.” Then, after a tear-jerking, somber ode to a bandmate that passed away recently, Green quipped “Here’s a cheerier one.” This led into the performance of one of Green’s most famous songs, “Girl.” This is the type of song played at weddings and can only be described as being absolutely beautiful and wonderfully sweet. His acoustic version “Girl” felt even more raw ashe switched to a higher vocal part to switch up the ending of this classic song.

During his October 21 concert, Green put on display his pure vocals and meaningful lyricism. He also demonstrated an admirable ability to match his lyrics with certain features in the music,whether it be by taking advantage of a pause to electrify the chorus or using a downward cascade of notes while singing about a “long way down, so long.” Ultimately, the City and Colour performance left no doubts about Dallas Green’s musical capacity.

Annika Eske