Kim Gordon is notoriously indifferent to her icon status. She was the frontwoman of the now-defunct Sonic Youth, which was arguably the most influential New York art-rock band since the Velvet Underground. Her seemingly constant presence at the forefront of music, fashion, and art has made her into an indisputable figurehead of all things underground cool for the last four decades.

But Gordon doesn’t rest on her legendary laurels and is quick to dismiss them with a certain apathy that fits with her indie disposition. “Being referred to as an ‘icon,’ blah blah blah,” she said recently in an interview with the 

of Gordon, as an icon, legend, visionary – you name it. The album, full of unsparing noise and disjointed lyrics, complemented with an undercurrent of irony, is confusing and, at times, shockingly contemporary. It’s rough, tumultuous – mesmerizing in a way that inevitably pulls you in as if the songs were sucking you into a black hole of overheated bass and dissonance. But it has to be asked: would 

 stand a chance without Gordon’s name attached to it?

Gordon has shown an impressive ability to combine the old and the new while managing to create a sound that redefines herself outside of the confines of Sonic Youth. “Air BnB,” a sardonic ode to the gig economy, connects 70s No Wave with the more mischievous end of digital production. “Paprika Pony” is perhaps the most unexpected track on the album, and absolutely consuming even with its lack of development. It’s druggy and dense, despite the kick drum sounds like it was recorded in a tin can. Over a haunting, out of tune marimba melody and unchanging, skulking beat, Gordon mutters a disconnected string of lyrics like a path through the uncharted gullies of her mind: “

I write back for some unending / Sound chords / A few words falling across the round / Golden.

There are some tracks that may be easier to approach for fans of Sonic Youth, though those looking for nostalgia and sentiment may still be disappointed. “Murdered Out,” originally released in 2016 in collaboration with avant-pop producer Justin Raisen (Sky Ferreira, Charlie XCX), is a booming, noisy track that calls on Gordon’s musical past while also displaying out of character vocal and musical textures. Its power doesn’t rely on the ferocity or dissonance of Gordon’s former band. The track saunters with a slick bassline and beat, played live by Warpaint’s drummer Stella Mozgawa, the production giving off a sense of pure smugness not present on even the coolest Sonic Youth songs. Similarly, “Hungry Baby” sounds like something out of Sonic Youth’s 

period – a scuzzy, clattering track with screeching guitars and lurching vocals that walks the line between discordance and melody. But, like “Murdered Out,” the track feels more pop with its simple melody and structure.

where Gordon does seem to lean on her reputation as an artist who has historically been at the cutting edge of her fields. The commentaries on some tracks feel forced in a way that comes off as presuming and hollow. The tracks “Don’t Play It” and “Cookie Butter” have provocative, intoxicating effects, but feel like a mid-record slump. Both have lyrics so satirical and repetitive they feel false, and the minimal development of similar overblown, simplistic basslines and percussion grow tiresome. Admittedly, it has become difficult to perform well-executed social commentary in a culture of such palpable irony, but hearing Gordon grumble about Twitter and yoga-studios feels contrived.

, however, is a true testament to Gordon’s artistry. “Earthquake” is the most straightforward song on the album, with husky vocal tones over drifting guitars and crescendos of cymbals reminiscent of the more experimental tracks on 

. On the album closer “Get Yr Life Back,” her voice isn’t much more than a whisper surrounded by a clanking metallic rhythm and pockets of guitar feedback. Both display the honesty and authenticity 

 seems like it was intended to convey throughout. Gordon’s vulnerability and growth come through in her strained vocals and more emotional lyrics, especially on “Earthquake:” “

This song is for you / If I could cry and shake for you/ I’d lay awake for you/ I’ve got sand in my heart for you

Gordon has experienced lots of endings recently. Her band, her marriage, her life in New York. She’s spent the last few years redefining herself as an artist and person outside of Sonic Youth, and her first solo album is a record that surprises in its success with pushing some musical boundaries and separating its author from her legacy. With 

Kim Gordon’s daring debut may go over the heads of some listeners

Exploding In Sounds Records · May 3, 2019


, despite all of the tension surrounding it and showcased in the tracks.

The past 12 years have been more than eventful for Pile. They’ve toured mercilessly from Allston basements to a soon-to-be Boston Calling stage, risen through the ranks of the Boston DIY scene and achieved a cult-like level of indie fame that never seemed to get to their heads. From the start of their post-hardcore preeminence with 2010’s 

 to their dramatic and conceptual 2017 release 

, Pile has stayed low and wised up, and this maturity is clearest and at its most polished on their latest release, 

“No longer burdened by youth, not burning and open and raw like a wound… I can be quiet private and protected,” sings Pile frontman Rick Maguire in “Firewood,” the disarming first track of the band’s 7th studio album. 

 finds Maguire firmly in control of his songwriting craft, exploring the bittersweet inevitability of adulthood and all of the good and bad that comes with it – anxiety and sacrifice, the wisdom learned from them, and, of course, the inexhaustible battle with the jerks in charge. This last one’s particularly important, actually, as “The Soft Hands of Stephen Miller” was the albums second single. It’s unusual, unhummable and an undeniably clever choice for a protest song that only emphasizes how comfortable Pile has become with themselves. And it’s pretty funny, too. (“From a long line of translucent lizards comes our boy Stephen / That inferiority complex passed down generations.”)

 is an album born from tumultuous circumstances. The album is the first since the band amicably parted ways with guitarist Matt Beker and bassist Matt Connery (Touring guitarist Chappy Hull took over full-time for Becker, while Stove’s Alex Molini entered in place of Connery). There was also a pretty big location change – a band that might be more well known for being from Boston than for anything else now has half of its members living in Nashville. It was a difficult move, one that triggered a lot of anxiety for Maguire. He channeled some of that panic into the album’s lead single, “Bruxist Grin,” a restless, seething track about white-knuckling your way through change. It’s one of many softer tracks on the album, showcasing the more mournful edge of the older, wiser, and more geographically dispersed Pile. “Hair,” the cramped and smothering fifth tracks, keeps its existential panic similarly subdued, and the somber and contemplative “My Employer” tackles aging and acceptance with atmospheric restraint. But Pile is Pile, and there are still tracks on 

 that call on their younger, more ruthless selves. High-velocity tracks like “A Bug on its Back,” and “On a Bigger Screen” are thunderous, with Maguire’s stomach-churning riffs and Kruss’ roaring work on the drums matching the anger of the more subdued tracks but this time, with more anger.

, despite all of the tension surrounding it and showcased in the tracks. Pile maneuvered around personnel shuffles and location changes with grace and produced a truly stellar album because, well, they’re Pile. And if we’ve learned anything in the last dozen years, it’s that they basically do everything right. It seems odd that a Boston-based, DIY hardcore band that has shed both their Boston and DIY skin and much of their youthful ferocity sound can still produce an album revered by national 

 local listeners. It’s hard to hold on to the respect of a changing and aging DIY fanbase as bands gain popularity. It’s even harder if they’re Bostonians. Pile has no trouble maintaining this respect because they’ve maintained their dignity. The band has never written anthems, never produced a song for mass media, never done a hokey cover of a meme-ified song to cash in on the young and online. They have always showcased a heightened ambition with their records, and 

On ‘Green and Gray,’ Pile is growing up, but not growing soft

More than ever, we need bands who will stand against the establishment, who will shout and scream and make their presence felt, who will fight to force change for the better.

The quintessential riot grrrl group Bikini Kill announced their reunion tour in January – and Courtney Love is upset about it.

When the news broke last month that the ‘90s punk outfit would be reforming after 22 years, the public’s reaction was overwhelmingly positive. Anyone who has ever owned a Sleater-Kinney shirt or a Bratmobile record was thrilled that the pioneers of the riot grrrl movement would be playing a full set of shows together for the first time since 1997. It was such monumental music news that the people who only know the band because they just bought 

on vinyl at Urban Outfitters were probably excited, too.

Hole frontwoman Courtney Love did not share the excitement, taking to Instagram to share her feelings.

 recently posted a photo calling for the group to add more shows to their sold-out stint, which Love called “the biggest hoax in [the] history of rock n roll.”

The singer continued, saying that two of Bikini Kill’s members are “total amateurs” and that Kathleen Hanna, the band’s lead vocalist, has a “DIY nonsense dilettante” persona. And just to twist the knife a bit more, that the band just downright “sucks.” Subtle.

According to Hole guitarist Eric Erlandson, the drama between the two bands started in 1995 at Lollapalooza. There was an incident that started with Love throwing candy at Bikini Kill frontwoman Kathleen Hanna and ended in a shoving match and Hanna challenging Love to a true riot grrrl duel: a respectful feminist debate.

While the Bikini Kill/Love feud is clearly an example of old grudges dying hard, Love’s comments do bring up some interesting points about the band’s past, and their intentions for their future. Why now? Do the 2010s really 

It’s easy to hear this news and think publicity stunt. It’s even easier to roll your eyes and call it washed up. Maybe Love is right, and this limited tour is just a tired attempt at rehashing a dead genre. Riot grrrl’s popularity was a contradiction in itself – for a movement that shunned its own exposure, taking special pride in its anti-establishment tendencies, it seems odd for Bikini Kill to be making music headlines in 2019 for a highly publicized, exclusive tour.

But riot grrrl didn’t exist in a vacuum. And the message behind the movement still needs to be heard today. The truth is, 2019 is the perfect time for a riot grrrl resurgence. Things might be better for women in music than they were when the group kickstarted the riot grrrl revolution in the 90s, but there is still a space for the combative, political punk of Bikini Kill in 2019.

More than ever, we need bands who will stand against the establishment, who will shout and scream and make their presence felt, who will fight to force change for the better. For anyone skeptical of the band’s reformation, don’t expect the reunion shows to be nostalgia trips – there is still more work to be done.

Courtney Love is mad about the Bikini Kill reunion – should we be too?

It’s been a decade since the pop-punk powerhouse Panic! At the Disco released 

, their divisive, psych-pop-inspired sophomore album. Ten years ago, Panic! At the Disco was coming down from their breakout fame after 

 went platinum, ushering the Las Vegas band into emo stardom in 2005. After being the unofficial kings of the pop-punk scene for less than three years, Panic! decided it was about time they grew up. Looking back, 

 was an ambitious, albeit somewhat pretentious, attempt by Panic! to flaunt their newfound musical maturity and shed some of the cynicism and callousness that had brought them their success.

 is verbose, dense and of questionable quality – in other words, emo – 

 is basically the exact opposite, and Panic! knew it. The flowery, Beatles-esque album opens with frontman Brendan Urie singing “Oh, how it’s been so long, we’re so sorry we’ve been gone… you don’t have to worry ‘cause we’re still the same band.” Despite the a disclaimer, fans and critics didn’t buy it. 

 created the great pop-punk schism of 2008, splitting Panic! fans into diehard emos and the open-minded emos. Fellow alt-rock stars My Chemical Romance were going through similar genre overhauls with 

, and it was apparently too much for fans to handle. 

 barely managed to go gold, which, compared to the success of their first release, was pretty lousy.

The album’s only successful single “Nine in the Afternoon” sounds like the B-side 

 never had, with blaring horns and sweeping strings layered under Urie’s delightful harmonies. The Beatlemania continues on tracks like “Pas de Cheval” and “The Piano Knows Something I Don’t Know,” with their infectious, retro hooks and witty lyrics. When the band isn’t showing off their Brit-pop chops, the tracks take on a more dreamy and youthful feel. Although some songs, like “Northern Downpour,” a melancholic ode to the moon, may have just been too slow and too dreamy for fans of the pre-flower power Panic! to get behind.

Contrasting the hyper-sexualized and severe lyrics of 

 focus unashamedly on love – finding it, keeping it, and reflecting upon it. The band takes quite a childish approach to love songs, though. Take “When The Day Met The Night,” which tells the tale of the sun falling in love with the moon. Lyrics like “When the sun found the moon, she was drinking tea in the garden” make some tracks on 

 sound straight out of a nursery rhyme. However, there’s a thin line between endearing naivety and contrived childishness, and Panic! has trouble staying on the right side of it on the second half of the album. “Folkin’ Around” is a failed attempt at a love song and a pun, and its western feel seems overly-indulgent. “She Had the World” is 2008’s pop-punk emotionally immature anthem, with Ryan Ross, the band’s former heartthrob sidekick, confessing over uninspired harpsichord, “I don’t love you, I’m just passing the time”

Ten years out from Panic at the Disco’s foray into psychedelic pop, we can see through the turbulent public reception and appreciate 

 for what it really is: a great attempt by young artists to break out of the pop-punk box put up around them. Their effort is as valiant as it is relatable – remember in high school when you wanted to seem more mature so you exclusively listened to sophisti-pop? 

 is the album embodiment of that phase. As Urie sings on “That Green Gentleman,” “Things have changed for me, and that’s okay.” That line wonderfully sums up the entire album. If you should take one thing from 

, it’s that change can be messy at times, but it’s not something to be afraid of.

Panic! at the Disco’s ‘Pretty. Odd.’ turns 10

The ease of Molly Burch’s dynamic talent is so clear in these tracks. Her refined style and self-awareness keep the romance of ‘First Flower’ engaging even with its simplistic feel.

Molly Burch overcomes anxieties and lets her inner strength shine on ‘First Flower,’ the anticipated follow-up album from the Austin-based singer-songwriter. Burch moves away from the heart and heartbreak of her debut album ‘Please Be Mine’ and puts her most intimate thoughts on display, exploring broken relationships and self-doubt with a voice like a folk-crooner and an unapologetic attitude on her powerful sophomore release.

As a testament to this attitude, ‘First Flower’ opens with the question “Why do I care what you think?” which seems to be a theme throughout the album. Burch seems to mix love, defiance, and realization with ease, creating a sound that is undeniably confident. The first two tracks, “Candy” and “Wild” are fun but introspective odes so free-spirited and fun you’ll be happy that it’s stuck in your head all day. But behind the pop sentiments and more superficial lyrics of the album’s singles, there is the raw emotion that sets this album apart from ‘Please Be Mine.’ “To the Boys” is just that – a bubblegum track with a much deeper meaning. The song opens with the lyrics “I’m not a quiet singer, but I’m a quiet talker,” which shows Burch making a statement about her anxieties off the stage. Listening to ‘First Flower,’ it is as if Burch is reclaiming her shyness. She has found a balance between her identity as a public figure and an introvert and created a home within her quiet personality. In “Dangerous Place,” Burch airs her fears and regrets in her mesmerizing, husky voice. Although the words “it ain’t easy no more” are guided so effortlessly by Burch, you almost don’t believe her.

“First Flower” isn’t completely without romance, and Burch has the unique ability to take a simple love song and keep it interesting. She takes a much more seductive persona on the title track, a love song for her boyfriend and band-mate, Dailey Toliver. She moves from the sultry verse to a chorus like a siren song, sure to lure any unsuspecting listener in with her airy voice cooing “you are my man” over, and over again. “Without You” is smooth but bouncing, a song of love and devotion, but also of self-acceptance. The ease of Burch’s dynamic talent is so clear in these tracks. Her refined style and self-awareness keep the romance of ‘First Flower’ engaging even with its simplistic feel.

Despite the emotional circumstances it came out of, there is something so 

 about ‘First Flower,’ easy to listen to and easy to get lost in. The whimsical highs and sensual lows of Burch’s voice, the slow-burning, country-Western inspired melodies – it’s an endearing simplicity that speaks to the artist’s strong presence as a songwriter and performer. Burch seems to have hit her stride with ‘First Flower,’ finding a middle ground between emotional indulgence and emotional accessibility that showcases the best of her talent and personality.

Molly Burch hits her stride with ‘First Flower’

Chromeo, the slick electro-funk duo, made an unexpected return in June with 

, the band’s fifth studio album. I can’t seem to find the words that describe how I felt when I heard that Chromeo, the group I had a brief obsession with in ninth grade, was making a comeback. Was it hesitation? Doubt? Maybe just reluctance? Or is it because I now understand that Chromeo just rebranded dance music to make it acceptable for the anti-dance music indie boy market? Or the harrowing idea of revisiting your 2013 self that was only into the band because they collaborated with Ezra Koenig? Any way you slice it, there are plenty of reasons to be fearful of 

 before you even listen to it. Unfortunately for Chromeo, the album meets and exceeds these expectations– or rather lack thereof.

Chromeo has fallen victim to a mistake many bands that achieved moderate success make after years out of the public eye: “going pop.”

 is the result of this identity crisis, an album desperately jam-packed with A-list features and a clean, almost clinical pop sound. But it’s not all bad; the album is well produced for what Chromeo was going for, and with the help of some industry legends, manages to find an accessible but objectively fun sound. However, some tracks seem to be rehashing old tricks. ‘Must’ve Been’ is basically Chromeo’s ‘Get Lucky’– a shining, uncharacteristically pop track with delicious riffs and a big wig featured artist– and “Count Me Out” sounds a little like an ‘Uptown Funk’ from a different dimension. Despite the recent and already slightly played out pop-funk craze, Chromeo released a catchy, bouncy album that is probably best suited for background music at a party.

Which leads me straight to my next point: 

 listen to it. Probably on the third try, you’ll realize where the album goes wrong. Behind the faux-funk sound and attractive collaborations lie some pretty unsettling stuff. Apparently, Chromeo missed all of the recent news of sexual assault in the entertainment industry or just the whole “not being a jerk” thing. In fact, it seems that Dave-1 and P-Thugg tried to alienate as many listeners as possible, from women to blue collar workers to – did I mention women? Maybe we weren’t looking out for this type of thing in 2014 while we were listening to some of their other hits, like ‘Sexy Socialite’ and ‘Over Your Shoulder.’ But hey, sexism is okay when it’s put over some synthesizers and a slap bass, right? ‘Juice’ is probably Chromeo at their worse: the album’s first single begins with “relationships ain’t a democracy, I’m good if you just stay on top of me.” Talk about a first impression.

 has some good tracks for a totally crazy high school party or to listen to 30 seconds of before changing the radio station, but that’s not good enough for a band once known for their new and unique sound. If this album teaches us anything, it’s how washed up Chromeo has become. We’re tired of hearing creepy pop songs sung by 40-year-old straight dudes. We’re tired of being bombarded with false 80’s nostalgia (really though, how much more cheesy synthesizers and Netflix original series set in 1985 can we take?). After listening to 

Chromeo releases full-length ‘Head Over Heels’

, the idea of reuniting Kim and Kelley Deal, Josephine Wiggs and Jim MacPherson is monumental. Their last project together is a 90’s alt-pop delicacy – a muddy masterpiece, equal parts camp and callous, that gave us the roaring anthem ‘Cannonball’ – but more than anything, it’s a tough act to follow. However, The Breeders definitely do not crack under pressure. Their 2018 album 

 brings a new sense of maturity to the band’s classic alt-pop sound twenty five years after their breakthrough, and smashes all the expectations set for the band to pieces.

Just because the members of The Breeders are all well into their fifties doesn’t mean they’ve gone soft. Their cool-kid attitude is still there. For those hesitant to pick up a Breeders album in 2018, have no fear: the band’s endearing scrappiness remains, but it has had time to grow into something a bit more polished, more 

. The first track ‘Nervous Mary’ is a great mix of grunginess and experience. The Deal sisters’ droning harmonies, erie riffs and perfectly creepy lyrics are a wonderful introduction to the “new” Breeders. Yet, the second track, and first single off the album, ‘Wait in the Car’ is a flashback to The Breeders we know and love. It seems like the band’s 21st century response to ‘Cannonball’: Booming, tough, and a little weird (we hear Deal meowing about twenty-five seconds in). The lines “Wait in the car, I got business!” bring to mind an image of Kim Deal slamming a car door in slo-mo holding a bat. Or maybe that’s just me…

The Breeders showcase their wonderful ability to balance their past and present sounds on 

. The album has its highs and lows; moments of madness and composure that leave the listener confused but wanting more. This approach sometimes works and sometimes doesn’t, however it gives off an aura of fearlessness. The Breeders have already established themselves as artists, hitmakers, and misfits, so why should they have to prove themselves all over again? Tracks like ‘MetaGoth’ and ‘Spacewoman’ show this apathy to expectations. The former is a sinister display of the band’s capacity to sound exactly like Siouxsie and the Banshees, and the latter an emotional ballad that tells the tale of someone so lonely they feel as they are alone in space. The groovy ‘Archangel’s Thunderbird’ is a welcome snap back to reality after the short lull, and is a testament to the band’s sonic flexibility.

This is not the Breeders we are all familiar with, and for some, not The Breeders they want to listen to. Even though some tracks might miss the mark, they are important – the band has grown up, and so has their approach. 

 is a beautiful example of a band that hasn’t eroded over time, but instead has evolved and matured by individual experience.

Olivia Mastrosimone