Dev Hynes, under the alias Blood Orange, has returned with 

, a 16-track display of a queer person of color’s trauma and resilience in a racist and heteronormative culture. 

 sounds improvised and natural, yet finished and polished in a fusion of alt-pop, indie hip-hop, progressive R&B, jazz, and spacey chill-wave. It’s as if it cannot decide on being just one thing, much like the human experience at the intersection of race, gender, and sexuality. As each track progresses, it evolves and morphs into something unpredictable and alive. 

also features a variety of artists, including P. Diddy, A$AP Rocky, Tei Shi, and Steve Lacy from The Internet.

The album is narrated by Janet Mock, an African-American writer, director, and transgender rights activist through snippets of recorded conversation that are sprinkled throughout the tracks. The first track, ‘Orlando,’ opens with street sounds that transport you to Hynes’ rough childhood in the city. “First kiss was the floor,” he croons in the refrain, referring to being beaten up by bullies in his youth – a traumatic experience that continues to affect him in his adult life. There is an abrupt switch in the guitar melody, and Mock enters for the first time, describing the struggle of being told “You’re doing too much” as an insult to the expression of her identity. Mock appears again in the intro of ‘Jewelry,’ a celebration of Black excellence, adding onto the concept of “Doing too much” with the response, “But, like, why would we want to do the least?” ‘Family’ is a 40 second interlude of Mock speaking over saxophone riffs, defining family as going far beyond biology for marginalized people who have to seek alternative forms of kinship and make a space for themselves in a world where they are told they do not belong.

“No one wants to be the odd one out at times / No one wants to be the negro swan / Can you break sometimes?,” Hynes sings in the album’s first single, ‘Charcoal Baby.’ These lines encompass the stress and anxiety experienced by minorities from always carrying the burden of “otherness” in their everyday lives. This is a standout track for me, as the lyrics are repetitive and simple, yet poignant in meaning as a person of color. The prominent guitar and snares set a groovy, mid-temp back-beat for the smooth, falsetto vocals, making for easy listening. ‘Vulture Baby’ follows, which Hynes has 

 is about cultural appropriation in rap, playing off of the idea that white people value black culture more than black people themselves. “No one wants to be the negro swan,” except for when it is trendy and profitable for white people.

is Blood Orange’s darkest, most vulnerable release yet. It is an immersive experience that dives into the black psyche, while treating us with dynamic musical construction. The symbol of the Black Swan is a compelling metaphor for the experience of marginalized people, as it has been explored in various arenas throughout history. The term originates from the unexpected discovery of black swans in Australia in 1697, as only white swans were believed to exist to the Western world. In 2018, the struggle to assert that Black Lives Matter persists. In Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake, the black swan, Odile, deceives the Prince for his hand in marriage, ultimately leading to the death of the protagonist, the white swan, Odette. The color white is often associated with purity, innocence, and beauty, while black always has a negative connotation. The Black Swan Theory, developed by Nassim Nicholas Taleb, refers to unpredictable events with extreme impact that can only be rationalized in hindsight. Though the theory is originally applied to financial events, I believe that the continued fight and resilience of people of color is uprooting long-established systems of power in a way that those sitting pretty in the status quo never saw coming.

Blood Orange stuns with deeply poignant ‘Negro Swan’

On that Monday night, The House of Blues was filled with college kids and everything was dark except a glowing sign that read “VÉRITÉ”- a stage name that translates to “truth” in French. Eventually, Kelsey Byrne, the singer/songwriter behind the name, took the stage, accompanied by only a drummer and synth/bass player.

The moody indie-pop singer, performed songs mostly from her debut studio album, 

, and her popular cover of the 1975’s ‘Somebody Else’ that has reached almost 90 million streams on Spotify. I discovered VÉRITÉ from said cover this past summer, and have not stopped listening to it since. As a fan of the original song, Byrne’s version diverges in all the right places and bring a different depth and mood to the heartbreak narrative with a harder rock sound paired with smooth, but less dreamy vocals. I was excited to see it performed live, however, I’ve come to the conclusion that I prefer the studio version for the fuller sound and provocative quality I wasn’t quite getting live. I guess it will be reserved for my own personal performance that is scream-singing along to it while in the shower with an ex in mind.

Byrne’s performance style is very simple, but in a way that showcases her talent as a true vocalist. Her incredible vocal range and control was on full display, most notably during ‘Phase Me Out,’ where she hit every riff and falsetto flawlessly. Brooding synth-pop is not a rare commodity in music today, but an artist of this genre that can truly sing live without all the bells and whistles of production is something special.

Byrne is a woman of few words and moved efficiently through her set without stopping to tell a tour story or chat about the weather. She closed with ‘Underdressed,’ and that addictive melody is still stuck in my head as I am writing this. Before I knew it, EDEN was on and I only stayed for the first couple of songs. All in all, VÉRITÉ wasn’t a life changing act, but I enjoyed the talent and music she shared with us, so it was a pretty solid Monday night.

VÉRITÉ @ House of Blues

Phil Elverum chronicles his journey to acceptance of the passing of his wife Geneviève Castrée. A year after the release of 

which was written and produced with a fresh wound, 

 resounds with its predecessor, however, we see a shift in focus from strict grief and shock to new questions and revelations as he conceptualizes life without her as the present. The ubiquitous use of tragic death and its aftermath as artistic fodder has never touched me quite like Mount Eerie’s recent work. Elverum has abandoned the experimental noise and layers for a simpler musical construction of acoustic guitar and dashes of distorted electrics that serves mostly as a lulling rhythm to a literary quality. It is apparent he does not view his own work as art, but an outlet for documentation and our observation. The stream-of-consciousness style, untouched by metaphor or rhyme, reminds us this is his painful reality he is simply choosing to share. Picking up where 

continues to keep Geneviève breathing through Elverum’s lungs in six lengthy tracks.

The first track, ‘Tintin in Tibet’, opens the album with the lines “I sing to you / I sing to you, Geneviève / I sing to you / You don’t exist,” his voice monotonous yet melodic. Elverum addresses her by name, breaking up the empty “you’s” that saturate his songs about her. This song feels fuller and less like a one-sided conversation, as her physical presence is embodied in his vivid storytelling of fond memories of their time together. He narrates the sweetness of their young love, noting the little things like the image of her peeling an orange and the title of the book he read to her by the water. Here, Elverum sings to Geneviève as the woman he fell in love with that lives in his private memories, rather than the hole she left behind.

‘Distortion,’ the longest track at just under eleven minutes, is essentially an existential rant that covers the past, present, and future beyond himself. The narrative here is complex as he recalls seemingly disconnected events in his life like his grandfather’s funeral, a pregnancy scare after a one-night stand, and watching a documentary about Jack Kerouac on a plane. He ponders his own imminent death and how he will be forgotten like everyone else, but he vows to keep singing to her until his day comes.

The title track shows the greatest departure from 

both sonically and in personal progression for Elverum accepting that Geneviève is gone and he must go on with his life. ‘Now Only’ has a surprisingly upbeat chorus with a sing-songy melody: “But people get cancer and die / People get hit by trucks and die / People just living their lives / Get erased for no reason / With the rest of us watching from the side.” He even pokes fun at the commercial success of 

 and being paid to play “death songs” for young people on drugs at a music festival with Skrillex and Father John Misty. The grief “now only” comes in waves that are starting to dissipate.

For the most part, the brutal honesty in Elverum’s words make the songs about his late wife difficult to listen to because your heart is breaking for his loss, but ‘Earth’ strikes a completely different chord. He recounts seeing “actual chunks” of her bones while playing with their child in the yard and returns to the chair he spread her ashes on in “Seaweed” from 

. His matter-of-fact tone is haunting. Personally, I could do without this song, but what does it matter what I think? This is an experience he actually lived through and he wrote this song for himself and Geneviève, not me.

. In ‘Two Paintings by Nikolai Astrup,’ Elverum draws parallels between himself and the artist of “Midsummer Eve Bonfire” and “Foxgloves”, as well as the subjects in the pieces. He also compares Geneviève to Astrup, an artist who died young, as he is surrounded by her unfinished and unpublished art in which he feels her presence. In ‘Seaweed,’ he visits the place where they were going to build a new house together to spread her ashes and wonders if there is any significance or if she is present in the field of wild foxgloves, a flower she liked. Now, standing in the same place in ‘Two Paintings by Nikolai Astrup,’ he does not wonder anymore.

The album closes with ‘Crow, Pt 2,’ again referencing the album’s predecessor. Part of me wished to hear more bits of the hope in the final track as we did in the first half of the album, although I understand that having good days does not mean the bad days do not linger. This song is the saddest of the album, as Elverum narrates an average morning with his daughter where he sobs over breakfast while listening to her voice on a record. He feels Geneviève in abstract and concrete forms – her empty seat at the table, the wind, the almond-shaped eyes of their offspring.

I will probably never listen to this album again, at least not for a while. Not because it’s bad, but because it’s kind of hard to be in the mood to re-live someone else’s tragedy and I desperately hope nothing happens in the near future that will allow me to relate to 

. It feels almost intrusive to be consuming this man’s pain with such specific detail as pure entertainment. However, the work of a true artist like Elverum deserves recognition, even if he feels that art has no place in the context of death. Although 

 inspires hope and acceptance, it’s hard to tell if we will ever hear new music from Mount Eerie that does not echo with Geneviève.

Mount Eerie releases full-length ‘Now Only’

In anticipation of his appearance at The Wilbur Theatre on March 1st, WRBB’s Jasmine Chan got a chance to chat with Wyclef Jean and get an inside look on the veteran rapper whose influence has inspired countless upcoming musicians.

JC: I’m here on WRBB talking with Wyclef Jean who will be coming to The Wilbur Theatre on March 1st as part of The Carnival Tour, how are you?

JC: It’s Valentine’s day, so I have to ask, are you celebrating this year?

WJ: I always celebrate Valentine’s day with my lovely wifey. Even my daughter she’s 12 years old, you know, and I asked if she had a Valentine and she was telling me ‘no’, but I don’t believe her.

JC: So, it’s been 10 years since your last full tour in the US. How does it feel to be back on the road with a packed show schedule for The Carnival Tour?

WJ: It’s incredible because through the years I have records from The Fugees, to Shakira’s “Hips Don’t Lie”, to Santana, and the list goes on. For me, to be in the modern day generation where we have kids like Young Thug that’s 24 years old naming their records after me, it’s incredible to come out and perform for the fans. They get to see it from the producer’s aspect, the composer’s aspect, which is a different kind of show. It’s very interactive with the crowd.

JC: When was the last time you were in Boston?

WJ: I probably was in Boston like 6 months ago.

WJ: Yeah, I just came up for some studio session work.

JC: How would you say your approach to music has evolved since The Fugees era to your most recent releases, 

Carnival III: The Fall and Rise of a Refugee

WJ: Just the technology changes, we just put an EP out called 

 that streamed over 50 million on Spotify. Like I’ve said, a great song is a great song no matter the era, right? The only thing that’s gonna change is the drums, the sonics. We into trap sonics now.

 we hear you take on 2017 hip-hop. What was the reaction like from the artists you sampled like A$AP Rocky, Kendrick Lamar, and Kodak Black?

WJ: They went crazy. They all went crazy. You know, these kids look up to me. It’s different when you just say ‘oh, I respect the young generation’ and because of the way they shout me out when I see them and the respect they give me, it was important to not just say ‘you’re dope’, but actually show them how dope I think they are. When I start barring with them and I take their songs and start to flip it like a little-wave mixtape, it freaked them out, they were so excited. They were like, ‘Oh sh**, Wyclef doin’ it’.

JC: You’ve been in the rap game for longer than some of the new generation rappers have even been alive, so who was your biggest inspiration during your early career and who/what inspires you now?

WJ: Man, I was comin up, like The Fugees used to open up for Biggie, you know, I remember like Tupac in the dressing room, we did shows together. For hip-hop, I loved what Dr. Dre and them was doing like NWA. Cause you know for me, coming from this society we was coming from, we didn’t just want to create music we wanted to create a movement. And watching some of those guys made us feel like we could have did that.

JC: What would you say your relationship with Young Thug is like? I know he has talked a lot about you being a big inspiration for him and he has that song ‘Wyclef Jean’.

WJ: Yeah, I mean that’s my nephew, it’s all good. It’s just a beautiful one, it’s love, it’s real. I tell you, respect is respect, the real knows the real. It don’t matter the age if it’s real. Think about it, we all know who Bob Marley is, you know what I’m saying? We all know who Jimi Hendrix is. So, if you do good music it’s always going to inspire a generation to keep doing good music.

JC: What can we expect from The Carnival Tour?

WJ: Man, if you’ve never been to a Wyclef concert man, what can I tell you? You’ve gotta put everyone’s DNA together: Thugger’s DNA, Future’s DNA, Fugees together, Kendrick Lamar, a bit of Sean Paul, put all of that DNA together. So, just bring two outfits with you. We call it ‘The Carnival’ because we take you on that ride. We start in 1997 and we finish in 2018. Y’all know I’m Haitian, so I have heavy Caribbean blood. I love to make people dance, party, and have a good time.

JC: Have the shows so far on the tour been really fun and crazy?

WJ: The shows have been crazy, like if you go on my instagram @wyclefjean, you can get a flavor of what it looks like, what it feels like, and the energy of the crowd. It feels really good to be back on tour.

JC: What’s been your favorite city so far?

WJ: We kicked off in Jersey and Jersey is where I’m from, so it’s either like Jersey be claiming me and Brooklyn be claiming me. It was crazy to set it off at home, it felt good, like I got to see a lot of friends. Not often do people get to go back home and really still be on top. I’m coming back home and it’s like, if you went to high school with me you know who I am, if you went to college you know we used to be on the block together. Home felt like a homecoming.

JC: Alright, that’s all the questions I have for you today. For tickets, go to wyclef.com/events to see Wyclef Jean on March 1st at the Wilbur Theatre. You can find 

 on iTunes, Apple Music, and Spotify and listen to 

 for free on all mixtape streaming platforms.

WJ: 100 percent. You already know it. See you soon!

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

You can find out more information about Wyclef Jean 

Q&A with Wyclef Jean

Has it really been 10 years since my older brother drove my sister and I to Blockbuster listening to MGMT’s 

for the first time? Surely, it feels as if it has been even longer, since I could not just pick any movie to stream at the click of my mouse, but tracks like ‘Time to Pretend’ and ‘Electric Feel’ still made their way into my daily playlists.

Music was not an integral part of my home growing up. In fourth grade, the only time I listened to music was in the car, so the extent of my exposure to music was the radio (to put that into perspective, the #1 song on the Billboard Year-end 2008 Top 100 was ‘Low’ by Flo Rida featuring T-Pain) and my brother’s CDs. Although I was too young to actually feel any of the weight of the lyrical themes throughout 

, the indie psychedelic-rock sound of MGMT stood out against the 2000’s pop as something I could identify with because of the sheer fact that it was different. For the first time, music felt personal, and I was hungry for more. It was 

 that brought the concept of music from the background to the forefront, from a tune stuck in my head to a world of discovery outside of what was made available to me. I’m pretty sure anyone who considers music an important part of their life and the development of their identity has an album they feel the same way about.

has the kind of delightfully odd fusion sound that can only be described by an unnecessarily long string of hyphenated genres. The absurdist, colorful imagery in the music videos tip off the classification as neo-psychedelic, but the actual composition blends deeper than that with aggressive synths, gravelly riffs, dreamy falsettos, and acoustic moments. MGMT hit a sweet spot in alternative music that was both intriguing and agreable: The addicting 9-note melody of ‘Kids’ was immortalized through pop culture features from the official FIFA ‘09 to the pilot episode of 

and covers by The Kooks, Chiddy Bang, Cage the Elephant, and more. The other singles, ‘Time to Pretend’ and ‘Electric Feel,’ reached significant popularity as well, but the deep cuts like ‘4th Dimensional Transition’ and ‘Future Reflections’ are what created a strong debut album that went on to be named as the best album of 2008 by 

 and the 18th-best album of the decade by 

comes from its ability to sound vintage and futuristic at the same time, as if you are experiencing nostalgia for a time you have yet to know. It reminds you that at any given moment, you are simultaneously the youngest and oldest you have ever been. It embodies the sentiment of fleeting youth through a transforming lens that evolves with you. Maybe this album feels so much bigger than itself because it just happened to fall into the formative years of my generation, but I think that the anxiety of growing up, a mix of optimism and fear of the unknown, truly never leaves you. We are all strangers to our own trajectories, “fated to pretend” we know what we are doing. Supposedly, the countdown at the beginning of ‘Kids’ is in fact not a recording of children, but a sped up version of adult’s voices. So, maybe, when we all slow down for a second, we are just a bunch of kids screaming on a playground.

In 2008, the stock market had crashed, Britney Spears was bald, and Sarah Palin was running for Vice President – we thought 

 was a bad year. Yet here we are in 2018: Donald Trump is President and people are eating Tide pods. At least 2008 gave us 

MGMT’s ‘Oracular Spectacular’ turns 10

As my second of three concerts at Brighton Music Hall in one week, Cults did not deliver a standout performance for me. It was a drastic change of scene from the memorable show the night before by 

 – the psychedelic rap duo from Flatbush, Brooklyn – not just because of the polar-opposite genre and demographic of fans, but also the energy level and performance quality just could not compete. The indie pop duo, Brian Oblivion and Madeline Follin, finally entered the stage at 10pm and had to fight for my attention.

The band opened with ‘Offering,’ the title track of their latest album released in early October. In my opinion, the album as a whole is not exceptional (

), but this particular song stood out. In a bewitching black dress with Rapunzel-like hair, twirling and swaying about, Follin was quite charming. The set was aesthetically pleasing with a projection of the album cover, two hands extending towards the sky, on rectangular displays. Throughout the entire performance, the images changed with swirling, colorful patterns that matched the vibe of each song. However, I did not love how the projections came from the back of the venue and covered the band members’ faces the whole show. Although the Brighton Music Hall is an intimate venue, this made the performance feel unengaging and distant.

As for the sound quality, it felt as though the buzzing synths and guitar were too loud and drowned out the vocals. This effect is an artistic choice common in their music, but it was much heavier live to the point where you could hardly make out the lyrics Follin was singing. ‘I Took Your Picture’ and ‘Right Words’ were also two of my favorites off of the new album, and this seemed to be in agreement amongst the head bobbing and grooving crowd who knew the words well enough to sing along.

They closed out with ‘Go Outside,’ which fans were probably waiting for all night. The upbeat earworm is certainly their most popular song; it has been featured in commercials and played in stores for the last six years. Although they have the potential, I am not sure Cults will ever evolve past the status ‘Go Outside’ gave them in 2011.

Cults @ Brighton Music Hall

As a 5’2” girl, I have generally kept my rap music enthusiasm to the safe confines of my home. That all changed on a Tuesday night in Brighton Music Hall, and my evening with The Underachievers did not disappoint my expectations of what really goes down at a rap show. Given the aggressive and hard nature of The Underachievers’s music, I was rightfully nervous for what was ahead of me as I approached the venue for the Renaissance Tour.

I spent most of the show in the photo pit, observing the audience from behind the barrier like an ethnographer conducting research and feeling out a bit out of place. The anticipation for the duo was just as thick in the air as the smoke and smell of marijuana. Halfway through the first supporting act, Warm Brew, a large figure with an even heftier afro stepped in front of me. Just as I thought to myself “wait… is that—” he stepped on stage to join the show. It was Boston’s own, Michael Christmas, who was welcomed as a pleasant surprise for fans in the crowd.

Most bopped along with enthusiasm for the second opener, the hip-hop trio Injury Reserve, but some were just impatient and eager for the arrival of The Underachievers. I couldn’t quite make out what the guy in the front row was shouting, but from his face and the way he was flipping the performers off, it was not nice and Ritchie with a T was not happy. Before I could understand what was happening, Ritchie got a running start and catapulted himself onto him, feet first. The security was quick to control the situation, and the lights came on to exhibit my shocked expression, laughing at the absurdity. The night continued on like nothing happened.

The moment AKTHESAVIOR and Issa Gold hit the stage, the crowd was full of energy, with moshing bodies swaying like a tide. Despite having released seven albums since their debut in 2013, the loyal fans were familiar with their entire discography, singing along to every word. Issa and AK hail from Flatbush, Brooklyn, a breeding ground for recent emerging rap artists, and it is reflected in their psychedelic hip hop sound. Their vocals complement each other, giving a push and pull between deep and gritty drawls and spitting quick, punching lines. In the hook of “Crescendo,” a popular banger, Issa describes his sound: “I’m what happens if 2Pac and Jay Elec ever collided.” They have been equated with the group Flatbush Zombies, with whom they have collaborated in a supergroup, Beast Coast, as well as been long-term hometown friends and smoking buddies. The Underachievers often reference both their town as well as their friends in their music, with lines like “I came up from Flatbush, made it on my own/ Now we established, smoke one to the dome” in “Take Your Place” and “Elevated mafia, Flatbush Zombie familia/ No dumb n***as on our roster bruh/ Finna wreck your team if you not with us/ Beast Coast ain’t no stopping us” in “Gold Soul Theory”. The crowd would chant “Beast Coast! Beast Coast!” over and over without either of them inciting it.

Issa lit a joint while on stage, receiving much approval from the crowd. He has explained their group name: “I feel like the things that we do could be considered underachieving, like we smoke pot. People would probably meet us at first and be like, They’re probably just potheads. And then they’ll talk to me, or talk to AK, and be like, ‘alright, they’re intelligent.’ So it’s just a flip on that. Like, The Underachievers, even though technically we’re doing underachiever things, we’re bringing positive energy.” Issa and AK have a stoner reputation, yet bring intellectual and enlightened complexity in their lyricism making statements about life on the streets of Flatbush, experiences with psychedelics, and theories of a higher power.

At the end of the show, Issa and AK hopped off the stage into the crowd to take pictures with their loyal fans. My concert buddy emerged from the venue looking like he just took a shower, drenched in sweat. He is a frequent rap show goer, but we both agreed that The Underachievers was the rowdiest concert either of us have ever been to. Although it was inevitably a memorable night for me, The Underachievers delivered an outstanding show for all rap enthusiasts alike.

The Underachievers @ Brighton Music Hall

[three_fourth]Archy Marshall renews his title as the reigning British monarch of all things cruel with his second album under the artist alias of King Krule. 

is a genre bending journey, drenched with slightly out of tune guitar, rattling snare, and deep, gritty vocals in ballads that truly drag you down into his world of suffocating loneliness. Through twists of punk rock and jazz infused trip-hop, Archy immerses you 19 tracks deep into his dark blue mind.

The opening track, ‘Biscuit Town,’ is the nickname for Bermondsey, a town in London that he references later with ‘Bermondsey Bosom (Left)’ and ‘Bermondsey Bosom (Right).’ The chorus repeats “I seem to sink lower / In biscuit town, in biscuit town,” referring to losing grasp of his life and love in his UK hometown. The next track, ‘The Locomotive,’ literally describes his wait for the train, but uses this imagery to convey his internal suffering and mental isolation within one of the most active parts of the city: “This vessel was delayed / No objects in motion / A subject to smoking / The platform sighs, ‘My empty emotion’ / As trackies walk on by / I’m alone, I’m alone.” His desperation for the train to come could symbolize his desire for an end to his suffering. When it finally arrives he considers ‘stepping the gap of minds,’ which might be a reference to the ‘mind the gap when boarding’ signs, and serve as a metaphor of ending his life by jumping in front of the train. Yet he continues on with the faster paced ‘Dum Surfer,’ drowning his misery in a messy night at a bar. But not all of the tracks are riddled with imagery and metaphors to convey his darkness, Archy’s thoughts are sometimes clearly stated. For instance, in ‘Lonely Blue’ he growls and yelps with desperation over and over, “I’m so lonely”- the message is apparent here.

 was released in August, and was his first single since 2013. The lyrics are like a free verse poem- no chorus, just a mumbling stream of consciousness recounting an interaction with a girl. It is laced with celestial imagery, while the twinkling piano and distant saxophone add a dream-like atmosphere to the track.

‘Half Man Half Shark’ sounds more like a nightmare as the chanting of “half man with the body of a shark” muddled under a chaotic mess of instruments grows louder, as if the hybrid monster is swimming towards you. His voice breaks through the water with a classic punk rock sound, heavy on the whining electric guitar and bass. Archy has said that this track is a reference to a song his father wrote called ‘Body of a Man in the Belly of a Horse,’ and his father’s voice is actually fused with his own in every repetition of the line to give the textured growl of a chanting crowd.

The title track ‘The Ooz’ embodies its name, with Archy’s questions and calls seeping through a female’s dialogue: “As oceans stand still (Hello?) / Steel structures dissolves / Of dust soft fuzz (Is anybody out there? Hello?) / She pants, she pants / All I can see is her mouth (Is anybody out there? Hello?).” Archy 

 the concept that inspired the entire album, as “your sweat, your nails, the sleep that comes out of your eyes, your dead skin. All of those creations that you have to refine. That’s where it comes from: It’s kind of about refining the subconscious creations that you do constantly.”

King Krule’s work can be simplified down to ‘music for sad people.’ It has a self-indulgent appeal for a ‘it’s raining out and I haven’t showered in a week please just leave me alone’ kind of day. In all the depression and suffering, he has created art that even neurotypical optimists can revel in. Although romanticizing mental illness and tragedy is nothing new, 

offers unique, intriguing beauty and mesmerizing complexity that is hard to ignore.

King Krule releases full-length ‘The OOZ’

The indie-pop duo Cults present a gift of optimism and hope with their third album Offering.

[three_fourth]The latest release from Cults reflects on the personal growth of the musicians, Brian Oblivion and Madeline Follin, and starkly contrasts the glass half-empty outlook of their self-titled album from 2011 and 

Their breakout hit from their first album, “Go Outside,” can be interpreted as the story of a toxic relationship where one person wants to live life in the light, while the other refuses to leave their dark hole of depression. “Never Heal Myself” can be seen as a response to that track, where the damaged one fears the other leaving because they cannot fix themselves and make the relationship work. These were based on the unsuccessful romantic relationship between the duo. Oblivion described the concept: “There’s a feeling our generation has. The feeling there’s always something better around the corner, that everyone is born to be a star. The feeling that life is waiting for you, and yet it’s not happening. All of that is static.” Although the romance between Oblivion and Follin fizzled, the break-up didn’t hinder their growth as musicians but instead, propelled it for a stronger second album.

exhibits a refreshing, new mindset for Cults. The opening title track is described by Follin as “a jam about finding hope in what can seem like a hopeless situation.” The chorus, “Hanging at the end of a rope / But I can make you an offering / Such a terrifying joke / But I can make you an offering,” demonstrates empathy as if Cults is saying “life gets hard, but we’ve been there. Finding happiness is not as impossible as it seems”. This message is more palatable for forlorn cynics that are tired of the “don’t worry, be happy” theme of most pop music. The sound compliments the lyrics, with uplifting synths and a groovy ’80s feel.

The next track, “I Took Your Picture” highlights Follin’s youthful vocals multi-tracked into ethereal harmonies like a children’s choir, contrasting with the heavy bassline for a fun tune, despite nearly nonsensical lyrics. “Right Words” is another stand out that packs a punch with electric guitar riffs and a foot-tapping beat. As for the rest of the album, the layering and extensive synths with repetitive lyrics start to sound over-produced and glazed over, fading into the background and losing attention. The muddled percussion in “Nothing is Written” has a drowning effect that is uncomfortable to listen to. The chorus, “Round and ’round / we’re chasin’ a memory / We gain some ground then downward trajectory / ‘Round and ’round, we keep on turning / A month of somedays come,” cuts through, but is unsettling. Follin’s vocals edge on strained and whiny, which is disappointing compared to her other work that is softer and dreamlike. The last track, “Gilded Lily” uses the Shakespeare allusion to show that she hasn’t completely gotten over the breakup. The four lines of “Haven’t I given enough, given enough?” in the pre-chorus seem to contradict the overall message of 

, but it is a humanizing reminder that recovery has its ups and downs.

Overall, I’m happy to see that Cults has finally been able to move on from the overwhelming pessimism found in their first two albums. Not only are the lyrical themes new, but the dance-heavy sound shows a little diversity that we haven’t seen before. Although it has flaws, 

is a solid addition to Cults’ repertoire and shows promise for future works in the indie-pop sphere.

Cults release full-length ‘Offering’

September 13, 2017 at Blue Hills Bank Pavilion

On Wednesday night, Joshua Tillman, also known as Father John Misty, with a backing band one section short of being a full orchestra, captivated his audience within the tent of the Blue Hills Bank Pavilion. The horns, strings, and percussion paired with his velvet-smooth vocals hung in the air thicker than the 90 percent humidity.

” the single that coined the name of the tour and his third album released in April 2017. The backdrop featured animated snippets from the album cover artwork, illustrated by Ed Steed of 

-esque when zoomed in and sectioned off. From a distance, the piece looks like the silhouette of a bustling city, but when you take a closer look, there are skeletons sitting in a TV-room, naked women with utensils eyeing a man laid out like a feast, cultish-figures holding hands around a blazing fire of money, and many more disturbing scenes that each have a story of their own. The cover artwork is reflective of the album as a 75-minute commentary on society and the human experience, whose tracks touch on politics, fame, technology, death, and more with brutal honesty and satire. 

demands a second listen to decipher the dark message of his lyrics that so starkly contrast against the soft melodies and pleasant instrumental construction.

In a making-of documentary, Tillman described the album himself:

“Pure Comedy is the story of a species born with a half-formed brain. The species’ only hope for survival, finding itself on a cruel, unpredictable rock surrounded by other species who seem far more adept at this whole thing (and to whom they are delicious), is the reliance on other, slightly older, half-formed brains. This reliance takes on a few different names as their story unfolds, like ‘love,’ ‘culture,’ ‘family,’ etc. Over time, and as their brains prove to be remarkably good at inventing meaning where there is none, the species becomes the purveyor of increasingly bizarre and sophisticated ironies. These ironies are designed to help cope with the species’ loathsome vulnerability and to try and reconcile how disproportionate their imagination is to the monotony of their existence. Something like that.”

Tillman continued with “Total Entertainment Forever” and “Things It Would Have Been Helpful To Know Before The Revolution”, which addresses environmental issues with the opening lines, “It got too hot, and so we overthrew the system / ‘Cause there’s no place for human existence like right here / On this bright blue marble orbited by trash.” The projection on the backdrop displayed the revolving image of the earth, slowly deteriorating into a red-hot glowing orb. The imagery was heightened as it began to thunder and lightning, and the tent kept us in a dry bubble from the pouring rain, basking in Tillman’s prophetic energy.

His performance style was somewhat surprising to me, given the mature indie/folk rock nature of his singing and songwriting and the audience being age 30+ dominated. He navigated the stage rather flamboyantly, strutting in his heeled boots with limp wrists, falling to his knees, and ending songs with a dramatic drop of his upper body while grasping the mic stand. As unpredictable as it was, the audience was thriving off his zeal. Father John was truly preaching to the choir as we sang back at each other with the same amount of passion.

What I enjoy so much about Father John Misty is his charisma, humor, cynicism, and self-awareness that is emulated in both his music and performance. Tillman is so well-adjusted to his growing fame and his role as an artist within this sphere of vulnerable creatures. Within the first couple of guitar chords of the next song, the crowd would collectively engage in applause and noticeably shift their attention as if in preparation for their favorite tune, at which he teased, “Really? This could be any one of my songs.” When heckled with “I LOVE YOU!” he responded with, “Do you love me enough to let me play a deep cut or do you want to just keep hearing hit after hit?” after playing crowd favorites like “Nancy From Now On”, “Chateau Lobby #4 (In C for Two Virgins)”, and continued with “When the God of Love Returns There’ll be Hell to Pay”.

Evidently, Tillman often alludes to the Christian Bible to critique religion and human nature. It is important to note that he was raised by very religious parents in an Evangelical Christian home, but is very critical of his own faith and challenges the God he may or may not believe in: “When the god of love returns / There’ll be hell to pay / Though the world may be out of excuses / I know just what I would say / Let the seven trumpets sound / As a locust sky grows dark / But first let’s take you on a quick tour of your creation’s handiwork.” Because of the sarcastic and ironic nature of his persona and lyrics, it is hard to discern what his actual beliefs are. Regardless, his honesty about a sensitive topic much larger than himself is what attracts his audience of outsiders who dare ask the same questions and look to his music as a form of their own spiritual text.

The set ended with “Holy Shit,” a love ballad written on his wedding day. With a soaring crescendo and choral harmony, the closing song did not fall flat while the crowd filed out of the aisles and into the night with the melody still ringing in their ears.

The root of Father John Misty’s music is not for everyone, but we can all appreciate a handsome crooner with a great beard on a rainy, Wednesday night. Whether dismissed as an overly introspective and brooding indie-rock artist, or idolized as a profound songbird of our time, Father John Misty sure knows how to put on a show.

Father John Misty @ Blue Hills Bank Pavillion

From a small suburban Massachusetts town to Shanghai, Matt Mckeen of 

 has expanded his musical talents across the world. 22 year-old Mckeen recently graduated from the Massachusetts Maritime Academy, where he studied International Maritime Business. During his undergraduate career, he was able to perform across the U.S. in major cities like Boston, New York, Providence and Los Angeles. This fall, he is once again taking his music career abroad. WRBB had the chance to talk to Mckeen about his journey and vision for CADO.

**Catch CADO live at the Sonia in Cambridge, MA on Saturday, August 19th, 2017. Click 

 What has your experience been like trying to balance being a student and developing a music career?

 It was difficult, but it was a good outlet for me. The business stuff I was learning helped me with some Cado stuff- I treat it like a business.

: Who is your biggest influence and inspiration in music?

: It came from ‘avocado’. Cam and I were just throwing words out there and it just stuck. It sounds like a dumb story, but it’s an easy way to explain how to say it. Avo-Cado.

*Cameron Cox is his long-time producing partner that helped Mckeen make CADO a reality when they were just a Junior and Senior in high school.

: I know coming from a small town and having big dreams is hard. How did you deal or continue to deal with the people who doubt you or judge you for pursuing a rap career?

: I just don’t really care about what anyone says about it. I’m just doing what I feel and it’s just a natural thing. If anything about being from a small town would be holding me back, I think it would be that if I were to do this in New York or LA I would have more resources, but the internet has always been right there.

: What is one short term goal and one long term goal you have for CADO?

: Short term is to get exposure on bigger music blogs like Pigeons & Planes. Long term would just be to be genuinely appreciated as an artist. To be a household name, let’s go with that.

: How does your family support your music?

: Wicked, wicked supportive. Obviously it would help if my family were loaded and could dump a bunch of money into it like some bitch-ass kids (no shade), but they enjoy my music and just want me to have the best future for myself. They come from hard-working backgrounds and sometimes don’t really see it as a viable career, which can be discouraging, but they always come to my shows to show their support for me.

: I love it, hawaiian pizza is the best. People who think it’s gross are crazy.

: It’s life, yo. It’s energy. I don’t know what I’d do without it. It blows my mind how people can capture not only people’s attention, but touch you in some sort of way. That sounds perverted, but that’s why Kanye is my favorite: no one else can punch through like that and hit me in the gut like he does.

During his senior year of college, Mckeen spent a semester studying abroad in China where he wrote his most recent single, “Kintsugi”. In September, he will be returning to China to get his Masters Degree in International Trade at the Shanghai Maritime University. Although he will continue to write and release music while overseas, don’t miss your chance to see him live this Saturday, August 19th at the Sonia in Cambridge.

Listen to CADO’s most recent single, ‘Kintsugi’, here:

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Q&A with CADO

The combination of Phoebe Ryan and Tove Lo on the Lady Wood Tour made for a sexually charged, female empowered show last Sunday night. The second Phoebe’s distinct green hair hit the House of Blues stage, she had the crowd singing along. Her mashup of “Ignition” by R. Kelly and “Do You” by Miguel had an electro-pop twist which brought her own unique vibe to the classics. Although she began as a songwriter for artists such as Oh Honey and Bea Miller, she has released hit after hit beginning with her debut EP Mine in 2015. She prefaced the last song of her set by mentioning a call she got from her friend that their song had reached over a quarter of a billion plays on Spotify. Her friend was Drew Taggart of The Chainsmokers and their song? The dance hit, “All We Know”. Phoebe set the energy of the night high as a perfect prelude for the Swedish singer and songwriter, Tove Lo.

Anticipation built as Tove Lo’s glowing, yonic symbol was projected on a white sheet over the silhouette of her figure. The partition dropped and all eyes were on Tove Lo as she started her set with “True Disaster.” She is a true performer who utilizes the whole stage, giving attention to every part of the venue and occasionally joining her band by thumping her single bass drum. She also slowed things down with a stripped version of “Imaginary Friends,” featuring just her vocals and her on a keyboard.
Tove Lo captivates her audience with her mesmerizing dance moves and gives it her all to the point where she collapsed on the ground and had to take a rest between songs. She secured the audience’s attention caressing her body and teasing the hem of her shirt until unapologetically flashing us during “Talking Body.” At one point I captured a 30-second video of her writhing and humping the air on the ground in a mesh and sequined leotard, which probably made fathers taking their pre-teen daughters to the show a little uncomfortable, but the rest of us were pretty about it.

The raw eroticism of Tove Lo’s performances match well with the brutally honest content of her music about sex, relationships, drugs, and the female experience. It’s appropriate that this tour and her latest album are named “Lady Wood” after her song which carries the lyrics in the bridge, “Perfect imperfections with mistakes and unlearned lessons/Yeah, you give me wood, give me lady wood/Dirty on the inside, damaged goods with nothing but pride/Yeah, you give me wood, give me lady wood”. These lines encompass the dark, self-aware theme and message of this album and tour. She sings about being flawed and messy, but is confident in reclaiming her sexuality as a female in a straightforward approach to sex that is conventionally reserved for the male counterpart. Her feminist anthem, “Cool Girl”, is about the power plays and games of insecurity in the early stages of relationships which she refuses to take part in. The chorus, “I’m a cool girl, I’m a, I’m a cool girl/Ice cold, I roll my eyes at you, boy,” is simple but effective in expressing this as she strut across the stage with flirtatious nonchalance.

She left the stage after “Cool Girl”, but we all knew the show wasn’t over. She returned in a jacket that was essentially a disco ball for a finale of the song that started it all for her, “Habits (Stay High).” Throwing glitter into the crowd and belting it out on the edge of the stage where her fans could surround and touch her, the final song captured the essence of the entire experience of the show – intimate, provocative, and transcendent. It left me with the sudden urge to kiss a stranger, confront every boy who has ever wronged me, or run topless in the streets – do with that what you will.