 diverges from their usual guitar-driven indie-rock sound, opting instead to highlight human emotion amidst warm synths and bubbling percussive rhythms.

, Minnesota-based indie-rock band Hippo Campus focuses on the present. Leaving behind the notion that they would create another “Hippo Campus record,” the band decided that they wanted to instead approach the album as an opportunity to be heard as four individuals that happen to be under the name of Hippo Campus; making music that is more personal, vulnerable, and in the moment. 

 collects these moments, wrapping them in warm synths and an array of bubbling rhythms, ranging from gentle pulses to frenzied glitches. The ten-track record diverges from the usual guitar-driven rock that made up most of Hippo Campus’ prior discography, but brings with it new layers of dimension both sonically and conceptually.

Before I get too far into the review, I want to first ensure readers that I will withhold from making any references to a certain baby deer. The namesake of the album (and song) is actually attributed to lead singer Jake Luppen’s aunt, whose secluded cabin served as an important space for the band to write and work through the creative process of the album. That process was aided by producer BJ Burton (of Bon Iver’s 

), who had already worked with Hippo Campus to produce their previous debut album,

. The established relationship allowed the timeline of the project to be condensed into four and a half months, in contrast with 

’s year and a half development. The shorter timeline and Burton’s influence also led the band to make their music truly reflective of the inner dialogue and mental state of each individual during that period. These thoughts and emotions were borne heavily and unflinchingly through the subject matter of each song, and through the rises and falls of intensity in sound throughout the record.

The first two tracks of the album demonstrate this emotional expression in both a lyrical and musical sense. ‘Mistakes’ is an atmospheric, almost ethereal, opener that moves slowly with haunting choral arrangements and commanding synths. At the song’s climax, as all sound is stripped away, Luppen’s voice cuts through the silence to finish the lyric “I’m not that bad, I make mistakes / sometimes, mistakes.” The music gradually fades back in again, this time adding rich trumpet sounds to close on (at the same time introducing the new fifth member of Hippo Campus, horn player DeCarlo Jackson). ‘Anxious,’ bassist Zach Sutton’s first songwriting credit for the band, comes in next, backed by electronic mid-tempo pulses, and building to the intensity of the bridge—one of my favorite moments on the record. The vocal delivery of the bridge in particular expresses desperation, while the lyrics convey exasperation at the feeling of indefinable anxiety and worry.

The emotional exposure seen early on continues as the album progresses, covering the issue of losing control in ‘Bambi,’ and grappling with indecision and complacency in ‘Honestly.’ Each song also carries its own distinguished sound, which keeps the record as a whole from lagging at any point or blending together too much. Guitar riffs were not wholly abandoned, making notable appearance in ‘Why Even Try,’ while a strident frenzy of distorted guitar and muffled, overdubbed vocals crash through the otherwise ambient ‘Bubbles.’ A sense of cohesion still remains thematically through an introspective gaze, while the consistent presence of the synthesizer and drum machine contribute to the album’s fluidity.

 showcases the members of Hippo Campus as individuals, and in doing so, brings a grounding sense of humanity to the album as a whole. Although some fans may have been hoping for the usual bright indie-rock that the band has offered in the past, stagnancy in sound can hinder growth, especially for a young band. Hippo Campus demonstrated maturity in their decision to explore their capabilities as singular artists through 

, while simultaneously creating a unified album that captures the wide scope of genuine human feeling.

Hippo Campus delivers new sound with sophomore album ‘Bambi’

When the clock struck 7pm, the doors of Paradise Rock Club were opened, and the line of concertgoers along Commonwealth began to shuffle inside. Although the headlining act wasn’t hitting the stage until 11 (that’s rock n’ roll, baby), the venue filled up early as eager fans piled in to get a good view of Alvvays, supported by Snail Mail and Hatchie, in a sold-out show. Against a shimmering backdrop of metallic silver streamers, and accompanied by a drum set aptly labeled “DRUM” on the front bass, each female-led (!) act commanded the stage in their own distinct way, making for a dynamic display of artistry and a rockin’ night of music.

Hatchie, the singer/songwriter hailing from Brisbane, Australia, kicked things off by immediately sweeping the crowd into a sugary sweet haze of synth pop. Harriette Pilbeam, aka Hatchie herself, stood centered at the mic, strumming her guitar with ease throughout the set. There was something satisfying about watching as her accompanying band members played along, all faithfully bopping their heads to the beat. Hatchie’s performance was mellow and subdued, which paired well with her soft, mesmerizing voice, and the dreamlike quality of her music. Hatchie let us all float along on a cloud with her, and it was a wholly pleasant experience to be apart of.

Snail Mail performed next, with frontwoman Lindsay Jordan transitioning the sound to guitar-driven indie rock, bringing with her a visceral and captivating presence. I had seen Snail Mail open for Beach Fossils just about a year ago, before the release of her debut album 

, and before Pitchfork took notice and bestowed the prestigious title of “Best New Music” on the LP. Aside from this critical success, it was clear that Jordan had grown in her confidence as a performer as well. Every moment of her set felt raw and genuine. She perfectly blended the emotive angst in her music with a youthful charm—Jordan couldn’t suppress a smile every time the audience cheered at the opening notes of each song. As her glow-in-the-dark painted nails moved deftly up and down the neck of her guitar, she drew in every crowd member with her passionate and controlled vocal delivery, until the very last notes of the set.

Although it’s been a year since Alvvays’ latest release, 

, there was no indication by the completely packed, buzzing crowd that this was old news. After a very fitting opening with the song ‘Hey,’ the band launched fully into their set, exuberating a cheerful energy throughout the whole night. Lead singer Molly Rankin was laid back but lively, bouncing around the stage as she plucked at her guitar.

Each track came to new life in this live setting, taking on more of a rock sound, but losing a little of the fuzziness and nostalgia that is so characteristic to the records. The majority of the songs were from 

, save a few favorites from the band’s self-titled debut, including ‘Adult Diversion’ and of course, ‘Archie, Marry Me’ (truly, an indie-pop treasure). The band moved from song to song quickly, but slowed down mid-set for a poignant performance of ‘Forget About Life,’ with Rankin forgoing her guitar and singing straight out to the audience, enchanting all with her delicate, echo-y vocals. I always find shows to be more vibrant and entertaining when the band changes the dynamic of their act in a way like this, rather than plowing through each song without much variation in performance.

The band closed off the night on a two-song encore with ‘Next of Kin’ and a cover from the British post-punk band Dolly Mixture, who Rankin cites as an influence for Alvvays’ sound. As the crowd dispersed back on to the streets after the show, I had no doubt that the music of the evening would be in their dreams tonite.

Female powerhouses Alvvays, Snail Mail, and Hatchie pack Paradise Rock Club

So, What Did You Expect From The Vaccines on their fourth LP? After the 2015 release of 

, a hyper-stylized dream-pop reinvention of sound, and the departure of drummer Pete Robertson in 2016, the British indie-rock band left us not really knowing what to expect at all. But since the release of ‘I Can’t Quit’ and the four more singles that followed, it has quickly become clear that what we could expect from The Vaccines was a return to a guitar-driven, classic rock feel. 

takes The Vaccines back to that foundation of their original sound, while also mixing in vibrant 70s and 80s pop and glam-rock influences. The result is an energetic compilation of music that seems to hit a sweet spot for the group in terms of finding their sound in hopes to be more than “just another indie-rock band.”

Clocking in at just above thirty minutes, 

 packs punches in small doses, with a varied but unified collection of post-punk rock anthems, mid-tempo pop nostalgia, and a sultry pared down ballad smack in the middle of it all. Front man Justin Young invigorates each song with his clever lyricism and rich imagery, touting in the opening lines of ‘Out on the Street,’ “Who put bars across your window of opportunity? / Did you see? / You called me a broken record, but I’ll, but I’ll never be.” The entire album also exudes a maturity in the production, which feels polished and well-thought out while still keeping the fuzzy, rough-around-the-edges, carefree quality that all good rock bands seem to possess.

The aforementioned pop nostalgia is most prevalent in tracks like ‘Your Love Is My Favourite Band,’ which is an upbeat number reminiscent of 80s new-wave. Another example of imagery on the album, this song uses the metaphor of one’s favorite band to talk about love, and references turning on the radio (!) and “waiting up for number one.” Some may think of this comparison as cliché-sounding and unexpectedly wholesome for the Vaccines, but I’m sure most people taking the time to read this review would appreciate and understand how truly great a love can be for a band or a song.

The punkier ‘Nightclub’ comes in with an aggressive, manic angst and has a guitar riff that for some reason I feel compelled to describe as mischievous, like it’s being played with a smirk. ‘I Can’t Quit’ is another one of the more hard-hitting tracks on the album, and has a garage rock feel that could have fit right in on the band’s 2011 debut, 

). These songs have an agitated edge to them, which is portrayed well in Young’s vocals and is one of the more exciting aspects of The Vaccines as a band. Although the lighter, more shimmery pop-rock tracks take the majority on this album, the guitar-driven punk thrill is still unquestionably present.

 present the most cohesive run of the album, with each song flowing smoothly into the next, while also being able to stand on their own. Starting with ‘Out on the Street’ and finishing off with ‘Rolling Stones,’ these songs are catchy indie-rock tunes with just the right blend of danceable retro pop groove. It feels like this final portion of the album points sonically where the Vaccines have landed now as a band, striking a balance between guitar rock and indie-pop. One of the strengths of the Vaccines as a band is being able to grow as a band in a genuine way—every shift has felt intentional without feeling forced.

ultimately puts up a good fight. The entire record is an enjoyable play, with enough raw rock to satisfy the old fans and lively pop to please the passing listener. There are some great moments, and some good moments, and nothing really bad—but whether or not the album stands out in a memorable way is a valid consideration. 

 solidifies the Vaccines as a formidable act, but the boundaries weren’t pushed enough to make it a total knockout. Perhaps it didn’t need to be, though. The Vaccines have been consistent British indie-rock frontrunners since their debut. Eight years and four albums later, they are ending the 

 tour at London’s 10,000 seat capacity Alexandra Palace. The Vaccines are an indie-rock band, for sure – but it’s safe to say they are not “

The Vaccines release full-length ‘Combat Sports’

Hockey Dad, aka Australian surf-rock duo, aka best friends forever Zach Stephenson and Billy Fleming have scarcely had time to pick up their surfboards since the release of their debut LP 

 in the summer of 2016. The two pals have been busy touring all across the world, bringing their carefree, youthful energy to the US, Canada, Europe, New Zealand, and of course back to home-sweet-home Australia. While they were on the road, Stephenson and Fleming found inspiration for their latest album

 which they recorded while stateside. Hockey Dad’s aptly named 

showcases a refreshingly introspective gaze and broadens the scope of the band’s sonic repertoire, while still managing to be jam-packed with the riotous energy and distinctive sound that has always set Hockey Dad apart.

Far from their beloved hometown of Windang, New South Wales, Stephenson and Fleming teamed up with producer John Goodmanson and recorded 

 at Robert Langford Studios in Seattle, which happens to be the last studio that captured the voice of Nirvana’s legendary frontman Kurt Cobain before his untimely death. The environment in which Hockey Dad recorded their new album was clearly influential to the duo, as the studio itself is featured on the cover art of 

 and grungy, punk sounds are seen peppered throughout the album. The twelve track LP boasts a rather cohesive collection of songs that touches on themes of conformity, familiarity, and finding a sense of home, all of which were ideas ripened by Hockey Dad’s time spent living on the road. The lead single off the album, “Homely Feeling,” has a frenetic and noticeably grungier feel than what we’ve seen from Hockey Dad in the past. While it’s not the strongest track of the album, slightly lacking in dynamics, it does a good job of introducing the overall concept of the album right from the start, as the duo writes of searching for a “homely feeling” in places far from home.

When it comes to sound, there is not so much a shift with 

 but rather an expansion in the types of songs that Hockey Dad prove they can produce. When comparing their debut album to their latest sophomore effort, 

 feels like one long sunny day on the beach, perpetually abounding with youthful vivacity and reckless abandon. 

 doesn’t lose that liveliness, but it allows space for more serene moments. “Danny” comes in as the fourth track, slowing down the pace of the album in just the right way. The unhurried pace allows Stephenson to have a candid and emotional vocal performance, as he cries out for a lost lover to come back. “Whatever” is a lazy, melting number that is another breath of fresh air for Hockey Dad. The more relaxed vibe suits them just as well as their more familiar upbeat tracks, while lyrically continuing to look inwardly with thoughtful, self-questioning lines like, ‘I just can’t decide/If I will survive.’

 falls a bit flat about a third of the way through, with the songs “Running Out” and “Stalker” having a little too much repetition and not enough creativity, both in lyricism and sound development. Both tracks lean quite heavily into a more punk sound, and miss out on the opportunity to use the emotional quality of Stephenson’s voice that makes other songs more memorable and enjoyable. These songs felt a bit like fillers on the album, but they show that Hockey Dad is still a young band with room to grow and learn.

 comes as a fun surprise near the end of the album, with the song “Sweet Release,” sung by Billy Fleming, who usually puts all of his energy into the drums while Stephenson sings lead vocals. Fleming sing-talks the upbeat, head banging track with his unmistakable Australian accent, which adds character to the album and elevates the infectious tune. Fleming’s addition to the album shows Hockey Dad to be a true duo, which is part of what makes them so charismatic and engaging as artists.

 demonstrates a natural progression in Hockey Dad’s growth as a young band. The work as a whole shows maturity and development both in lyrical concept and musicality. While there are a few missteps and places for improvement, the album nonetheless succeeds in capturing the essence of Hockey Dad and where they are now as a band. The two childhood friends personify and embody the music they make, and this authenticity is part of what makes Hockey Dad so likeable. Stephenson and Fleming stayed true to themselves on 

—they are just two best mates, two surf rockers who love to surf, two artists making music about finding themselves and finding their way back home to the Australian coast.

Hockey Dad releases full-length ‘Blend Inn’

 back in 2014, Sam Smith has cornered the market on songs made for when you want to sink into a deep state of emotional vulnerability. He made you feel like you’re not the only one, in a much more reassuring way than one of his hit songs laments. It’s that emotional relatability that made and continues to make Sam Smith so appealing, in conjunction of course with that voice — that heart wrenching, soul-rattling, life-altering, singularly stunning voice. Sam Smith’s sophomore release is a continuation of his heart-on-his-sleeve musical journey; and with every journey, there are times of triumph and growth, but also dry patches of monotony. 

 lags at moments when it relies too heavily on the familiar sound and style that brought Smith success in the past. It is at its most paramount when it capitalizes on Sam’s growth, as the twenty-five-year-old singer plays into a newfound sense of confidence and honesty throughout the album.

. The ten-track album is filled with more crooning ballads, endless falsettos, catchy hooks, and that soulful, emotive quality that brings a good ole’ feeling of heartache with each song. It is Sam Smith doing what Sam Smith does best, but it felt a little too familiar. The first single off 

, ‘Too Good at Goodbyes,’ which has been riding the top of the charts since its release, simply felt too predictable. It was carried to commercial success by Sam’s sheer stardom and some well-placed snaps. ‘Pray,’ the second single released, gave off a much more genuine feel, and hinted toward the gospel and religious influences that would be further incorporated in other parts of the album. With Timbaland brought on for production, the song feels dynamic, and Sam’s delivery is sincere. As the chorus repeats “I’ve never believed in you no, but I’m gonna pray” we hear Sam singing about his struggles with his faith, a refreshing break from his usual subject of lost love. It was one of the songs that made me realize the album as a whole was more nuanced than I originally thought, albeit in a subtle way.

Smith shines in the two upbeat tracks on the album dubbed “dance-and-cry” songs by the artist himself (it seems like the goal is to always keep us crying). ‘One Last Song’ and ‘Baby, You Make Me Crazy’ have a vintage, bluesy sound that Sam Smith’s voice melts effortlessly into with fluidity and passion. These songs just have a good little zing to them that pays tribute to an older sound, one that deserves a revival on the pop charts. Had he departed further from his conventional ballads and explored this Motown-inspired soul even more, 

 could have been much more vibrant, and — dare I say it — thrilling.

‘HIM’ is a glowing standout on the album for its lyrical impact. Smith addresses a “Holy Father” throughout the song, as he opens up about his struggle in reconciling his relationship with God in regards to his homosexuality. Each line feels deeply intimate and personal, and is sung with a gentle earnestness. This candor and frankness about his sexuality was something that went previously unmentioned in Smith’s first album, so this song in particular demonstrates an intentional shift in subject matter, and again speaks to the growth seen on this album. Considering Sam Smith’s influence and platform in the pop music industry, incorporating a decidedly LGBTQ viewpoint into his songwriting could encourage and bolster other LGBTQ artists, and impact how they elect to incorporate their identity into their music as well.

 is by no means a step in the wrong direction for Sam Smith. While he could have done more to stretch himself artistically, it is certainly still a notable start towards a richer development of an artist who has already created a niche for himself in the music world. The blander moments of the album don’t stand out sorely, but rather just sit quietly in the background, as the record is ultimately carried by Sam’s incredible vocal prowess and his ability to tap into the emotions of his listeners by baring his own story. If anything, 

 is not so much reflective of where Sam Smith is now, but instead holds more promise of what he will do next with the inklings of growth that this album has fostered.

Sam Smith releases full-length ‘The Thrill of It All’

An eclectic indie lineup produced an unexpectedly ambient atmosphere in Northeastern’s own Afterhours on a quiet Thursday night. Sidney Gish, Half Waif, and From Indian Lakes each brought a unique aura and sense of individuality to the room that was as invigorating to the crowd as it was tranquil and reflective. The intimate venue only enriched the connection between the performers and the audience, giving each listener their own unique experience.

Sidney Gish took the stage first, an unassuming and lighthearted presence, who drew the crowd in with her witty lyricism and crystal-clear melodies. A Northeastern student herself, Gish sang her youthful and playful tunes while maintaining an air of maturity. Her lyrics were clever and emotive, and she sang them with a raw honesty. This attests to Gish’s strength as a songwriter and her ability to captivate the crowd with an effortless simplicity. Gish is even nominated for a Boston Music Award as New Artist of the Year, which is an impressive feat for such a young indie-pop artist. But, after hearing her set I can’t say I’m surprised.

(Authors note: Vote for Sidney Gish at the BMA’s 

Sandwiched between two solo performances, Half Waif definitely stood out, both in stage presence and complexity of sound. The entire set had a transcendent, ethereal quality that was ardently delivered and felt by Half Waif’s frontwoman, Nandi Rose Plunkett. Plunkett commanded the keyboard as rich, electronic soundscapes wove together with the band’s beats and Plunkett’s hypnotic voice. Some moments were delicate; others were powerful and soul-awakening, the contrast creating an overall dynamic performance. Each song was resplendently layered with a myriad of sounds and echoing, melodic vocals. Plunkett spoke in between a few their songs, talking about the inspiration behind her latest release 

 and even sharing her excitement in hearing her own song while in a store. Half Waif’s performance felt deeply personal and exhibited a balance of both heaviness in emotion and weightlessness in dreaming.

From Indian Lakes was the final act, and he proved that a singular, down-to-earth soloist could entrance an entire room. Joey Vannucchi—front man, writer, and producer of the band—performed solo with only his electric guitar and gentle yet authoritative vocals to fill the stage. And that he did, pouring himself into each song with a quiet intensity. The stripped-down performance allowed the crowd to focus on Vannucchi’s intricate rhythms and haunting lyrics. The emotion of his melodies was projected through his performance, pulling the listeners in from one song to the next. From Indian Lakes’ act was enriched by his rapport with the crowd as he spoke candidly and casually between each song, creating a conversational atmosphere with the audience. Vannucchi’s laid-back personality was endearing, and his quips about college, touring, and performing in a Starbucks were a mellow contrast from the deeper, moodier rhythms and pining vocals of his performance. The result was a beautifully fluctuating show, with From Indian Lakes seamlessly taking the audience in and out of a warm and thoughtful musical reverie. From Indian Lakes’ relaxed and vulnerable performance set the crowd at ease and ended the night peacefully. The three acts together presented a sublime night of music that was a pleasure to experience.

Casey Martin