If one phrase could summarize the emotion running through Boston’s House of Blues on Friday the 11th, it would probably be “Live every day as if it’s your last.” Having announced his second album, 

, as his last, Oliver Tree certainly seems to have had these words in mind when he planned the crazy, unique, and incredibly chaotic experience he delivered fans on this tour. Walking up to the venue, the energy was already buzzing. Scatterings of denim-covered cowboys and bowl-cut-afflicted attendees were clearly ready to unleash all of their love for the Internet celebrity. Inside, the excitement for the night only grew, as these fans turned to one another and began to speculate, sharing the crazy rumors and anecdotes they had heard of. “I heard he got in a boxing match at one,” whispered a frenetic concert-goer; “I bet that’s the motorcycle from his music video,” said another, pointing to the sheet-covered props on stage with a shaking finger.

347aidan surfs on the crowd. Photo: Chiara Jurczak.

Luckily, the crowd didn’t have to wait long to let out their held-in screams as the show’s two openers seemed to not only match, but go beyond their expectations of a wild night. The show began with a performance by William Schultz, better known by his stage name Sueco the Child, who performed his hit song “Paralyzed” and other tracks that replicated the same pop-punk vibe he is known for. Sueco certainly wasn’t paralyzed as he moved around the stage, jumping off it numerous times, all in a lead up to his finale — the crowdsurf. There are not enough words to describe Sueco’s antics, but an honorable mention goes to his guitar-smashing break between songs, and the pause he took to sign an adoring fan’s chest mid-song. The show’s second opener, TikTok sensation Aidan Fuller, stage name 347aidan, brought a very different energy to the stage, but an infectious one nonetheless. His set reached its peak with his performance of his hit single, “Dancing in My Room,” at which point, Sueco came back onstage and swayed along with the 18-year-old singer. The mismatch of energies only added to the expected weirdness of the show — and made Oliver Tree’s entrance all the more exciting.

Sueco gets the crowd’s energy up. Photo: Chiara Jurczak.

The 29-year-old California native strolled onto the stage to hundreds of people screaming his name, and looked as unbothered as if he’d just walked into his parents’ living room. Over the course of the night, Tree would demonstrate over and over this same ease and comfort,contrasting very nicely with his over-the-top style. Some artists seem to try too hard, and some too little — Oliver Tree simply does what he likes, and lets that love energize and enthuse him. From Tree’s first song, “Forget It,” it became evident that his innate confidence wasn’t for nothing. The same uniqueness that shone about him in his produced studio albums and professionally shot music videos was evident on the House of Blues stage. From facial expressions to mannerisms, he was quite evidently and simply himself. Tree continued the show by performing a track off his first album, “Alien Boy,” and proceeded to thank the audience for coming, before saying a quick “Thank you, goodnight,” and strolling right off the stage. In a voiceover, the confused audience could hear him say, “Oh, they want another one? I thought we only had time for two songs…” This elicited cheers from his fans once more, and as this farce ended, another one seemed to begin. Tree came back on stage in a new, very Tree-esque outfit, beginning what would be only one of the many outfit changes of the night. He performed a few more songs, engaging in some incredible fan interactions (at one point taking a fan’s sign with a picture of Ethan Klein from the h3h3 podcast and using it as an excuse to begin a “Fuck Ethan Klein” chant against the man whom he claimed to be his arch-nemesis) before announcing he would be bringing in a guest. Who should walk on stage but an 8-foot-tall alien, the famous Little Ricky ZR3, who performed “1993,” the song he features on in Tree’s last album.

Oliver Tree balances on his cow. Photo: Chiara Jurczak.

It was at this point in the show that another transition took place, and the audience was transported to the weirdest Wild West in town — Oliver Tree’s emo-country-land that gave rise to 

. From here on out, things only got crazier, if that was even possible with mosh pits, scooter tricks, a well-placed on-stage bathroom break, and audience crowd surfing. It was hard to believe what you were seeing when a giant cow got rolled on stage, and Tree managed to sing a whole song while standing on its back. What was great about this show, in case it hasn’t been made apparent, was that there was pretty much something for everyone. Whether an audience member was a diehard Oliver Tree fan or they’d just known him by name, they were guaranteed to come away from this show having had not only a good night, but with an experience that they will likely remember forever. As cheesy as it sounds, Oliver Tree is going out with a bang if this is truly his retirement from music. Walking out of the venue, it would’ve been hard not to agree with the muttered, “I feel bad for security in this place,” heard as the crowd hurried towards the exit. And if that isn’t a sign of a great night, what is?

Oliver Tree lights up the House of Blues with his chaotic, unique energy

Belgian singer-songwriter and rapper Stromae’s latest album, 

, is everything his fans deserve and more after the long wait since his last studio release, 

, in 2013. The new album is a perfect combination of classic Stromae-style production and innovative (and at times somewhat strange) instrumentation. 

gets its name from his desire to channel different voices and cultural perspectives into his music. In an interview with Spotify, Stromae said that the name was due to the album’s “influences that come from all over the globe and that are varied, multiple.” The artist certainly seems to have pulled through on that end, as he’s included folk music, Afro-pop, the erhu (a Chinese string instrument), and Bulgarian choirs on the album. His production talents shine through in his ability to make these dissimilar influences a symphony of sounds rather than a cacophony of noise.

coin comes from the singer’s penchant for storytelling via different characters. In this album, as in his last, Stromae manages to give life to the lyrics he sings. His ability to put into (at times crass and unfiltered) words the emotions which characterize the common human experience, and lay these raw, soul-touching words to the beat of a song you could dance to in a club, are what have made Stromae one of the biggest stars of the Francophonie, and even global music scene. This ability is demonstrated in 

, a collection of songs that reflect Stromae’s recent struggles with malaria, burnout, and ill health. Despite describing his feelings of depression and sickness in detail, however, the theme of the album seems to exude a final note of gratitude and a positive outlook on the world. Many of Stromae’s songs could be interpreted in a 

 of ways, giving his fans the versatility which they have come to expect and cherish from his work.

The album consists of 12 tracks, each a masterpiece in its own right. Stromae uses a mix of positive and negative imagery to weave together a tapestry of his mind, with different themes being reflected via the use of parallel lyrics, melodies, and instruments. He begins the album with “Invaincu” (Undefeated), which feels like the ultimate “f-you” anthem to all of his insecurities and struggles. What sounds like an African chant of glory and victory crowds the background of the track, as Stromae sings, “As long as I’m alive, I’m undefeated.” An African chant also appears later in the album on the track “L’enfer” (Hell), this time sounding much more like a cry of mourning, to lay the ground for his lyrical admission, “I’ve considered suicide a few times / And I’m not proud of it / Sometimes you feel it’d be the only way to silence them / All these thoughts putting me through hell.”

This same parallelism is most evident at the end of the album with the two last tracks, “Mauvaise journée” (Bad Day) and “Bonne Journée” (Good Day). Obviously the link between the two songs is reflected in their opposite titles, but Stromae includes it in the parallel structure of the lyrics as well. In “Mauvaise journée” he sings, “There’s my poo that ended badly / I’m going to have to scrub for an hour and a half,” while in “Bonne Journée,” he raps, “

The poop is perfect / I do not even need to wipe it

.” While a bit comical and vulgar, these lyrics and the way in which they have been placed opposite one another perfectly illustrate the message that shines through the album. As Stromae sings about themes like the struggles of love in “Mon amour” (My Love) and “C’est que du bonheur” (It’s Only Happiness), family in “Fils de joie” (Son of Joy) or even mental and physical health struggles in “Santé” (Cheers) and “L’enfer,” the central idea seems to be the same: life is composed of many moments of struggle, but just as many opportunities for joy. Stromae seems to be showing his audience the ways in which one can view the world differently based on the lens they adopt. You can choose to have a bad day or a good day, depending on how you view the most mundane of tasks, such as wiping and cleaning yourself.

is an excellent album that is well worth the years of hiatus it took for Stromae to get here. The artist has not lost his touch for creative and entrancing songwriting and producing; his desire to explore and incorporate different styles of music in his work can only lead to bigger and more exciting projects in the future.

Stromae’s "Multitude" stuns in a variety of ways

British pop-rock band Bastille delivers another stunning album with their latest release 

. It’s full of entrancing beats, riveting vocals and just enough dystopian themes to occupy one’s mind without taking away from the simple enjoyment of getting lost in the music. Long-time fans will not be surprised to jump into another album reflecting Bastille’s peculiar approach to pop. Their previous albums, 

 (2019), contained anything but the pure optimism which tends to color most pop albums — as reflected by their slightly ominous titles. The mythological and historical themes which the band incorporates in their songwriting, merged with the extremely modern beats they produce, give the band’s music a strangely timeless effect — appropriate to serve either as the backdrop of an EDM club scene or a medieval castle fight. Lead singer Dan Smith’s raspy vocals, smoothed by his British intonation, allow listeners to immerse themselves in the “future now.”The first track on the album, “Distorted Light Beam,” sets the stage perfectly for the rest of the album. While recognizable as a Bastille song, it manages to innovate slightly by leaning into higher-pitched synths and vocals that give off a robotic, futuristic vibe. The repetitiveness of a fast-paced chorus also feeds into this narrative, making the impact of the lyrics hit that much harder. In particular, the pre-chorus verse “

Feeling like/If this is life/I’m choosin’ fiction

” is a beautiful mix of nostalgia in its slowed-down form, all the while reminding one of the almost video-game style of the story being told.The next track, “Thelma + Louise,” is more typical Bastille. The upbeat track is peppered with hand-claps and percussive hits perfectly accompanying the lyric “Can you hear the sound of my heart exploding.” Listeners are then beautifully invited to place themselves in the story with the title lyric, “And suddenly we’re Thelma and Louise.” This seamless merge of fiction and reality is something which Bastille does exceedingly well, giving their songs a continued dynamism that keeps fans addicted.Another perfect example of Bastille’s happy and sad — depressing, even— contrast comes in their third song, “No Bad Days.” A seemingly optimistic-sounding title with a very relaxed beat, this song has perhaps the most jarring lyrics so far, such as “So your future’s lost/But they can’t take your past,” and the title chorus, which is misleading in its “You’ll have no more bad days/When you’re gone, gone.” Feeding into the timeless aspect here is the ability to interpret this song however one wants: whether the mood calls for an optimistic message about the promise of peace in the afterlife or a worryingly beaten-down view of the world, Bastille delivers.The album only continues its perfection from there, with their next track “Brave New World – Interlude,” consisting of a 27-second heavenly orchestral chorus that immaculately feeds into their fifth track, “Back To The Future.” This song calls for anything but a venture into a “new world.” Rather, this track evokes a sort of clinging to the past with the chorus, “In the middle of the night/I can dream away/Change what I like and go back to the future again.” The contrast continues with “Plug In…” which is a fast-paced, almost spoken-word song that further mixes ancient themes with ones tied to the future and specifically the power of the internet, as with the line “Say you’ll resurrect me as a young deep fake.” The song ends on an entrancing chorus of violins, opening for the next track “Promises” featuring actor and rapper Riz Ahmed voicing a stream of consciousness weaved with biblical allusions, and which ends with the beginnings of a 

 bass sound that grows into the album’s next track, “Shut Off The Lights.” This track is a weird mix of chill, lo-fi beats with scream-at the top your lungs type of lyrics. The multi-layered chorus, “And you said, ‘Shut off the lights, we don’t need them to dance’” already anticipates the crowds during Bastille’s upcoming tour.The title track, “Give Me The Future,” is the epitome of the band and this album, with mythical references (“I could be anything, let me be your Midas king”) perfectly merging with the futuristic tone of the song (“So give me the future, it’s golden and bright”). The message in this song, which uses the tragic story of King Midas to give itself a double-meaning, is a perfect example of the subtlety with which Bastille weaves its storytelling and which makes this music so compelling.The album ends with another entrancing transition, “Total Dissociation – Interlude,” feeding into the final track “Future Holds,” which leaves listeners with a (somewhat) optimistic outlook on life. The lyrics “Don’t blink, I’ll miss it all/And dead/boys don’t remember/The shit we never did/Will haunt us” are a perfect prelude to the chorus, a question which the band turns back to listeners “Who knows what the future holds?” almost as a challenge. Well, if the answer is any more Bastille albums like this one, then perhaps the future’s not looking so bad after all.

Bastille’s "Give Me The Future" is a dystopian dream

Self-taught DJ and musician Porter Robinson’s second album, 

 is a breath of fresh air and a great musical escape for worn-out college students to dive into this finals season (or as a great post-exam treat). Robinson, who rose to fame in 2016 with the release of his single, “Shelter,” admitted to struggling with bouts of depression from 2015 to 2017, and that these issues left him feeling unable to create music he felt truly proud of. However, Robinson manages to reflect these struggles in 

 by creating a space where thoughts like those that plagued him are swept away by a musical atmosphere which can only be described as magical. Listeners can allow themselves to be carried away by the vivid sounds flowing through their earphones, blocking out all of the noise from their real lives for just a moment. From the very first track, “Lifelike,” Robinson plunges listeners into a trance with a psychedelic musical experience reminiscent of an anime or indie video game soundtrack, perfectly reflecting the title of the song. Overall, despite the “messiness” which some have criticized the album for, the general consensus seems to be that Robinson fully achieved what he set out to do; he created an album that makes listeners want to run and faceplant in a field of grass that runs off the edge of the world, much like the man on the album cover has. In order to create this “in between worlds” vibe, Robinson makes use of ethereal-sounding music, but also of some more sinister sounds, such as crackling static, first heard in the fourth track “Wind Tempos,” and later featured for much longer in “dullscythe.” The overall effect of peace is not brought down by these interruptions, however. Rather, the way in which the calmness of the music manages to overcome these brief breaks only reinforces Robinson’s message.

The strength in Robinson’s music, however, and the reason why 

 comes across as a definite message of hope rather than simply a great piece of escapism, stems from a set of lyrics that seem to overwhelmingly encourage his audience to endure the trials of today in order to accept the glories of tomorrow. One of the standout songs on the album, “Look at the Sky,” exemplifies this perfectly through its chorus: “Look at the sky, I’m still here / I’ll be alive next year / I can make something good.” By funneling his own dark thoughts and experiences into his lyrics, it’s almost as if Robinson is walking right alongside his listeners and feeding thoughts of positive reinforcement into their ears. This, paired with the repetitiveness and loop-filled nature of the tracks, adds an almost therapeutic touch to the project. In a way, Robinson truly is nurturing his fans and making sure that they grow as he has managed to. All the while, he is using the thing he struggled with the most during his own battle with depression – his music. Overall, 

 is an excellent representation of how music can become both an escape and a reminder of that which one is looking to escape, and demonstrates how artists can combine both aspects into a reason to keep moving forward, lyric by lyric and beat by beat.

Self-taught DJ Porter Robinson’s second album, ‘Nurture,’ is a breath of fresh air

, the fourth and latest studio album by dynamic brotherly trio AJR, leaves much to be desired in terms of creativity, but still manages to produce a decent amount of head-shaking bops. As a whole, the project is indeed OK. Nothing stands out in particular as being out of place or unpleasant to the ear, but compared to the hits which the band managed to produce in their last two studio albums, the recently released tracks are bland and a bit uninspired.

The band, which identifies itself as “indie pop,” is known for its creative lyrics, original beats and melodies, and overall varied use of instruments and percussion. On any given track, one might find a trumpet giving way to a flute giving way to clarinet or a violin, or basically anything that makes sound. The title of the album certainly seems to match this orchestral theme. However, whereas in past albums these elements were just present in the tracks, without the artists necessarily having to point it out, 

feels like an excessive effort to make use of any and all things available, with no particular plan or organizational system in mind. From the very beginning of the album, the “Overture” serves as an instructional manual for the album, breaking down the drums, the melody, and showing listeners how it all comes together. Overall, the vibe is very much that of an opening number for a musical, preparing for what’s to come. Compared to the overture in their 2017 album 

relies too heavily on repetitive loops of segments of the songs on the album. Instead of the circular, whirlwind ride offered by 

’s overture, this one seems to be a very straightforward, linear path which, while still enjoyable, is easily forgotten.

Regardless of this disappointing start, what saves the album, and what has been the reason behind AJR’s success, is their ability to produce at least a couple of head-shaking hits. “Bummerland,” the second track on the album, is the perfect unconventional summer hit that lockdown-wearied listeners want. The positivity that radiates through the song and the upbeat clapping which supports the entirety of the track couples perfectly with the almost self-deprecatingly funny lyrics. Instead of going for a conventional, happy-go-lucky song, the band knew how to find the balance between upbeat and slow. AJR’s lyrics have always been a great feature for listeners looking for something a little deeper to shout in the club (or in this year’s case, in their apartments).

Another trend in AJR’s music is their tendency to come up with incredibly nostalgic-sounding songs, both for the past and the future. Songs like “3 O’Clock Things,” “My Play,” and “The Trick” meld both melody and lyrics into a trip to and from childhood; although not particularly novel, this element rescues the songs from being completely ordinary by allowing listeners to connect on a deeper emotional level. “My Play” and “The Trick,” in particular, employ some ethereal-sounding backing “ah” tracks to create a sort of in-between world in which both listener and sound waves can travel.

On the other end of the spectrum, “Way Less Sad,” “Bang!,” and “Humpty Dumpty” bring some fast-paced action to the album by highlighting the brighter-things-are-coming theme present through both the lyrics and the cover art of the project. Like “Bummerland,” these tracks are more reminiscent of past AJR songs, but still fail to reach that legend status that some of their songs, like “Weak” and “Sober Up,” managed to achieve. Overall, none of the songs stands out particularly over the others, and they all blend into one general “happyish” sub-theme of the album. The beats are very repetitive, and even though a variety of instruments and styles can still be heard, they often don’t achieve the climax which they seem to be seeking. Rather, they combine into an overwhelming stack of sounds that essentially cancel each other out. Another song which fits this category is the collaboration with Blue Man Group, which just feels like a lazy attempt at a catchy song; the lyrics provide no support here, and by the time one has reached this point in the album, it’s likely they wouldn’t be able to distinguish between this EDM/pop mess and most of the other tracks. In their attempt to create an ongoing line of similar-sounding backing melodies, featuring old-timey jazz sounds, AJR has limited their range to the point of becoming somewhat boring and predictable.

The album ends, very disappointingly, on the track “Christmas in June,” a track which could be the definition of an endless climb. Instead of providing a satisfying climax to the project, much like the real Christmas does by closing off the year, this song feels like a falsely positive outlook on what’s to come, while doing little reflecting on the album itself. 

creates a weird paradox for AJR in that it feels like they’ve been too repetitive and lax in the creativity of their melodies and songs but simultaneously too overreaching in the topics of their songs. It’s hard to see the connection between the songs, despite all of them sounding the same (or close to the same), a fact which robs a disappointed listener of even finding redemption through a deeper meaning.

feels like an easily-forgettable filler album for AJR, a band that in the past have demonstrated their ability to push the limit in both sound and lyrics. Perhaps this is a reflection of the past year, which many people have found particularly uninspiring, but this project comes as a sordid disappointment to an expectant fanbase who was looking forward to a highly technical and perfected musical experience from the brothers.