There is some music you cannot enter into lightly. It takes a cautionary warning, maybe a few deep breaths, before diving in. Then the music splatters all over you, screams in your face, and shakes you. This is Xiu Xiu. The duo, composed of Jamie Stewart and Angela Seo, have had a long history with the experimental realm. Their sound is stuffed with quaking synths and vocalist Jamie Stewart oscillating from a quivering whimper to an anguished bellow. Usually going at it alone on these musical exploits, the pair took a different path for their 12th album. 

 introduces their first duet album: each track pairs Xiu Xiu with a different musician, making for a star-studded indie cast. The collaborators include Alice Bag of ‘70s punk band the Bags, Chelsea Wolfe, and Drab Majesty. The journey even resulted in a seeming erosion of Stewart’s misanthropy: “The guest stars…helped remind me that the ratio of beautiful humans to shitty humans is more like 60/40 rather than what I have always assumed was 1/99,” he said in an 

 reflects this attitude, even within the dark subject matter of some tracks.

 cracks open the darker subjects inside Stewart’s mind, as seen on “I Dream of Someone Else Entirely,” a song about the complicated, abusive relationship between Stewart and his parents. It opens up with dizzying synths and with a distanced Stewart singing, “Two stomped upon children dressed up as parents.” The song talks about generational trauma, and how the abuse his parents suffered in childhood was transferred onto him and his siblings. It is the most vulnerable of the tracks, with residual hurt radiating from the main line, “I dream of someone else entirely.” Although Stewart recognizes that his parents’ cruelty was born out of their own traumas, he still bears the scars he wishes he never had. Similarly, “Saint Dymphna” refers to a seventh-century saint who was abused and eventually murdered by her father. With heavy, crashing drums, guest vocalist Twin Shadow and Stewart sing about someone experiencing abuse, offering the support that “He is not what you are / His life is not the end.” The track is brutal in its description of the abusive relationship, with shaky, echoing sounds that build onto each other, carrying the song to a moving, cinematic climax. It sends a message of support that even in this tragedy, there is hope.

True to Xiu Xiu’s typical style, the album also features more experimental tracks such as “A Classic Screw,” which devolves into an artistic nightmare of sound in the middle, then stabilizes only to end in chaotic screeching. Abrasive noises that sound like they were plucked from a horror film are also inserted in the middle of “It Bothers Me All The Time,” juxtaposing the subdued nature of the rest of the track, and ironically satisfying the message of the lyric “It bothers me all the time.” One of the more ‘accessible’ tracks on the album is “Rumpus Room,” a song which is both gritty and dancey. Jamie Stewart and Angus Andrew of Liars sing a chaotic, yet surprisingly catchy, chorus and somehow manage to make Flaming Hot Cheetos and Little Debbies sound evil. When first hearing it, the song sounds almost nonsensical, as if Stewart and Andrew are in a competition to name drop the most snack brands. However, when listening closely, the lyrics conjure the image of teenage adolescence and days of locking yourself in your room to stare at your computer until 4 a.m., red cheeto dust saturating your fingers.

The collaborative aspect of the album is what makes this project unique among Xiu Xiu’s myriad of other works. Liz Harris’s light and airy voice on “A Bottle of Rum” offers sugar to Stewart’s bitter lemon energy. There’s a delicate conversation between Stewart and Sharon Van Etton on “Sad Mezcalita” that delivers a beautiful introduction to the album. Their back-and-forth over simplistic synths blossoms into a tethered chorus that sounds as dreamlike as the song’s lyrics. Greg Saunier accompanies Stewart the whole way on “Goodbye for Good,” offering a fatalist tone to the track. The lines “Plants find you disgusting /…You think they are beautiful / They are waiting for you to suffocate” adds weight to the track, with Saunier’s heavy voice contrasting Stewart’s tone of trembling desperation.

, Xiu Xiu invite collaborators onto their weird and wild turf, challenging them to fit in. The 15 tracks offer their own dreamlike atmosphere, filled with bizarre or challenging messages. A well-acquainted listener will be surprised by the quietness that “Sad Mezcalita” opens the album with, as well as the quirky concluding optimism on “ANTS.” What fills out the rest of the album, however, is Xiu Xiu’s signature eccentricity.

Xiu Xiu’s signature eccentricity shines on ‘OH NO,’ their first collaborative album

Black Honey charged into the scene with their self-titled EP in 2014, booking shows, starring on the cover of NME, and churning out new music with ease. In 2021, they’re slamming down the door again with their bigger and bolder second studio album, 

. “The vision of the album just needed to feel like a Tarantino movie,” 

 lead singer and guitarist Izzy Bee Phillips. “Every time we finished a song we’d be like, ‘What scene would this be in?’” Alex Woodward on drums, Chris Ostler on guitar, and Tommy Taylor on bass make up the rest of the quartet to fill out the fiery sound of the album. The result is a blockbuster statement with badass characters and dramatic action scenes.

 lie in its rebellious attitude, crafting a sound of a dark action film. “Disinfect” sounds like the lovechild of a Muse and a Metric song, birthing one of the edgiest, most addictive tracks on the album. It sprinkles in castanets and a careful snare during the buildup, then breaks into viscous drums and ripping guitar, dripping in unruliness the entire way. In the same vein, “I Like the Way You Die” mirrors the ferocity with Woodward’s booming drums commanding the room as Phillips’ taunting vocals sing out, “I like the way you die, boy.” Phillips labeled the song “vagina rock,” and while there is no formal definition for that, the metallic rock sound paired with the vindictive lyrics paints a solid image. The song would fit into a film like

, with a powerful female antihero you can’t help but root for.

Of course, there need to be lighter notes in any good action film (à la diner scene in Pulp Fiction), and “Beaches” fills that role. With its nod to surf rock, it’s suited for a ‘50s beach scene complete with heart-shaped sunglasses and polka-dotted bikinis. Lyrics like “Preacher’s son, he taught me how to come / Right down to the beach where we can have fun” toy with an R-rated twist to a lighthearted track. “Gabrielle” is one of the more subdued tracks, about a woman pleading for Gabrielle to give her lover back to her, insinuating she tricked him into falling for her. It captures a haunting mood with Phillips’ rounding vocals singing lyrics saturated in envy. In the bridge she sings out “Il ne t’aime pas,” French for “He doesn’t love you,” a conviction that sounds like it could be the precursor to dirty revenge. It’s Dolly Parton’s “Jolene” from a darker universe, with a vendetta carved into stone.

Other tracks fall short of the cinematic cacophony of story and grit. Although the horns and spaghetti western guitar twang in “Believer” adds interest to the sound, the ingredients mixed together don’t add up to the special quality that other songs like “I Like the Way You Die” or “Run For Cover” have. Phillips talks of her inner conflict and premonitions on “I Do It To Myself,” but the abrasive electronic drums distract from the lyricism. Black Honey stepped it up on 

, and even with a few shortcomings, they proved that they earned their spot in the scene. Its cinematic vision creates a gritty, action-packed album belonging to any female ruffian.

Black Honey release unapologetically gritty ‘Written & Directed’

There are bands that create music with a formula you can always rely on, a guarantee in expectation. Then there are bands like Nervous Dater, whose musical creativity creates a big, beautiful mess, like a purposeful paint splatter all over their albums. Their debut album 

 carries their most popular song “Bad Spanish,” a track loaded with jitters, nerves, and lines like “I’ll bash my fucking head.” Four years later, Nervous Dater is back with their sophomore album, 

. The band has three members: Rachel Lightner carries most of the vocals and guitar, Matt Goetz adds more vocals and drums, and Kevin Cunningham grounds it all with bass. The trio work together in harmony, balancing each other’s strengths in the songwriting. The product is a collection of ten songs, each standing out as individuals while fitting into the puzzle.

The tracks ask their own questions, filled with a severe self awareness, but almost unsure of what to make of it. “Middle Child” is about Lightner’s acceptance in being nonbinary. Their dynamic voice sings “My mind and my body constantly fight,” over a climbing guitar and drums, stamping frazzled thoughts into the feeling. “Violent Haiku” kicks down the door with a strident guitar, commanding attention for Lightner to talk climate change. “The problem is the solution,” Lightner sings, begging an apocalypse from Mother Nature in order to wipe humanity from Earth. Chaotic? Yes, but that’s Nervous Dater’s niche.

Goetz embraces the grittiness of the punk band on “Tin Foil Hat,” which feels like an even more paranoid version of “Aliens Exist” by Blink-182. The song makes it sound like Goetz is bouncing off the walls, further detaching from reality with each second. It’s kinetically vibrant, with everything from smashing drums to raucous guitar to an actual 

 of ’90s TV show host Art Bell speaking with a pilot flying his plane into Area 51. It ends with Goetz declaring, “I’m going off the grid / You won’t see me anymore.” Another song that’s just as fun is “Farm Song,” which sounds like if Nervous Dater did try going off the grid and wound up in the country instead. Its toe-tapping beat and twanging electric guitars pair with more vulnerable lyrics like “I felt the helium rise slowly to my heart / Withdrawn from drugs and hope / I was naked and you were clothed / Sometimes I don’t think I have a home.” Lightner explains in an 

 that the song “is about questioning your response patterns in times of crisis; in my case, dealing with job loss, debt, and SSRI withdrawal.” In the middle, the energy slows, as if Lightner themself is stopping to question what the hell they’re doing. The beat picks up only to be slowed down again, spiralling out into a discordant whirring noise opposite to the country feeling it begins with.

 with a more polished version of the beautiful disaster they created. All of the tracks have their own strengths, but some fall through the cracks. “Turn Them Ourselves in the Grave” is more forgettable, its quieter existence falling short when stacked up against the others. Even the more stripped down “Everything Right” holds the power in its lyrics, radiating a vulnerability unlike “Turn Them Ourselves.” Nervous Dater is finding themselves in

. The album hones their strength in self-awareness, building on the foundation of their jittery chaos. Nervous Dater has this opportunity to grip onto themselves and push their sound to new boundaries while still maintaining their identity.

Four years after their debut, Nervous Dater produce yet another big, beautiful mess

“Some things cannot be rushed. Some seasons turn slowly. And some weather can only be seen and felt with gentleness,” writes Australian musician Indigo Sparke in the 

 involved an entire team, including Adrianne Lenker of indie band Big Thief, yet the album serves as a deeply personal journal, full of longing and love letters. Through the album, Sparke lets go of everything residing in her heart, throwing it out into the air for the wind to pick it up and set it free. 

 sounds like it lives in a cloud, a sunny desert, a lazy river. But that’s the veil Sparke wraps it in, like a gift, to allow her words to drop softly into the listeners ears, breaking its fall along the way.

, Indigo Sparke takes you by the hand and leads you into a secret hiding spot. With an acoustic guitar, soft tambourine, and a lonely piano as the main accompaniments, the album feels relaxed and dreamy. Yet there’s a profound sadness in each track. Indigo Sparke’s heavy lyrics cut into the breathy, atmospheric voice she sings them with. “Colourblind” feels similar to Mazzy Star’s “Fade into You,” both in sound and in theme. Both songs romantically tell of a longing, Sparke speaking of the liminal love she desires that might never happen. She achingly describes a painful distance between two people, as one waits for the other to reveal their truth in feelings. It’s the stage of ambiguity in a relationship, but Sparke never advances past it. She continues to wait for this truth, as patiently as ever.

The track “Undone” feels like a confession, a call for help, wrapped in a blanket. The gentle strum of the acoustic guitar, the soft touch of a piano, and Sparke’s delicate voice create the ambience of someone about to be undone, only held by the thread of someone she loves. “Carnival” feels even more undone, with lyrics of yearning, wanting, and a voice spiraling out, getting more desperate for her lover as the song progresses.

“Bad Dreams” stands out as the most haunting song on the album. Sparke’s voice continues to be atmospheric, but the lyrics “You broke all of my ribs in a dream the other night / You said you were not hurting me, just trying to hold me tight” snag the mind, sink the heart. Sparke’s voice trailing off with the fast plucking of the guitar forms the feeling of a bad dream: a hazy upset.

It seems almost an impossibility that these lyrics could feel gentle, yet Sparke’s voice lays them carefully over the hazy acoustic and cerebral sounds. There’s something necessary that lives within this dichotomy. Would these lyrics feel so heavy if not for the lightness of the sound? Could a message sound so loud if it was not whispered? Sparke’s voice draws you in, begs you to listen. The brilliance lies within its persuasion: Sparke convinces you into deep intimacy, then she pours these lyrics into you. In “Everything Everything,” she speaks “Everything, everything is dying / Everyone, everyone is dying.” She punctuates both the song and the album with these words, ending it on an ode to death, a passing thought of truth that encapsulates the tenderness of

From its beginning, Indigo Sparke slows you down, carries you into a quieter spot. 

 is a beautiful debut album, a collection of thoughts and poetic tellings. The hope for Sparke is that she continues this purity, letting her voice speak the honesty of these lyrics in its rawest form. The poetry of each song deserves that kind of care.

Indigo Sparke’s debut ‘Echo’ speaks heavy truth with a gentle touch

King Princess, a.k.a. 20-year-old Mikaela Straus, made a name for herself even before her debut album 

. Being the daughter of Brooklyn’s Mission Sound Recording owner, she started recording her own music by age 11. Entering the game this early gave her the leg up she needed to mold her songwriting skill to a level above other musicians her age. Her first EP 

earned her a solid fan base and “1950” became a soaring hit single when Harry Styles

 a lyric from the pop song. Her songs speak to the LGBT crowd, giving them the queer pop music that’s been long needed.

“I was dealing with the most vulnerable year of my life,” said Straus, discussing the context of her debut album in an

with Billboard. This vulnerability begins manifesting from the very first song “Tough on Myself.” The synthy energy that Straus often plays with on her songs mixes into insecure lyrics like “I get too tough on myself / Sitting alone, making fun of myself.” There’s a youth and honesty within her lyrics, making Straus feel more down to earth even though she was born into a privileged position. Her ability to ooze this vulnerability into many of the album’s touching songs is impressive. One of those songs, “Homegirl,” is a gentle love song about another girl she meets, nervous about her potentially forbidden feelings. “You taste like danger, but I feel so safe in your arms,” sings Straus against an endearingly simple acoustic strum and synth chimes. The lyrics are something that a lot of people connect to, but not something commonly heard. It’s part of the reason she has such a strong fan base: she writes the lyrics that people want to hear.

Straus hyped the song “Hit the Back” by tweeting that it was “the anthem for bottoms everywhere.” Not disappointing this claim, “Hit the Back” is an electric pop hit built around sexually submissive lyrics. It’s entertaining and brings color to the album, even with the slow start. It’s the kind of song that could be played in a club, accompanied by strobing lights and rushing adrenaline, but it’s also the kind of song that could be played at home alone when it feels like an empty living room needs to be turned into a dance floor. It’s easy for this track to stick in a listener’s mind, with lyrics catchy enough to sing on loop. This would seem annoying, except that the energy is so addictive that it’s fun to have the earworm. Because it was released as a single, it was a bit surprising to hear how slow every other song was in contrast. Consequently, “Hit the Back” refreshes the listener, but leaves more to be desired.

“Cheap Queen” on the album stands as one of the strongest songs and it makes sense that the album was named after it. The title refers to a term in drag where a queen kitchen sinks what she has to create her look. Straus seems more confident than a lot of other songs on the album. Since it’s an ode to friendship rather than a reflection of lovers or herself, making it easier to sense this confidence. The synths and samples peppered throughout the song puts the song through a filter that makes it sound a bit jazzier, a bit older. Many of the songs on this album, for that matter, feel like they belong in a contemporary jazz club. Straus strikes a balance between the alternative pop sound of Lorde or Lana Del Rey and the more 80s sounds of Cyndi Lauper or The Bangles.

King Princess fans waited for an album like this and Straus delivered. 

 plays silvery and smooth, tapping into the trend of echoing vocals and lo-fi sounding instrumentals. It would be interesting to see if Straus remains within this territory of alternative pop or tries to venture outside. Most of the album was slow, soulful, a build to the end where it opened up into something a little braver. Listeners could hope that King Princess’s future comes with a little more confidence and bravery. She played with a lot of sounds that could be explored further in future albums, creating an exciting start for Mikaela Straus, the queen (or King) of alternative pop.

King Princess’ ‘Cheap Queen’ is an exciting start for the artist

 is a continual re-framing of the known,” starts the description for Frankie Cosmos’ junior album. Singer Greta Kline’s voice is distinctive, making the entire sound that Frankie Cosmos creates distinctive. This could easily pave the path towards redundancy, but the band seems determined to grow with each album. Kline’s songwriting, along with the band’s performance and production makes for a collaboration that feels full of life, full of wonder, and full of progress.

Every album crafted by Frankie Cosmos has the signature trademark of Greta Kline’s whimsical, poetic songwriting. She manages to continue this theme by leaping into the first track “Moonsea” with one of the most memorable lines of the entire album: “The world is crumbling and I don’t have much to say.” She claims she doesn’t have much to say yet delivers us a 21-song album filled to the brim with lyrics that make your head feel as bubbly as a can of soda. The lyrics “It’s miraculous that humans are here / We built ourselves or god is real” on “Wannago” paint colors into the world again; they remind us that humans are incredible. Then on “Last Season’s Textures,” lyrics like “The news is so excruciating / How’d the world get so devastating? / I’m just fucking glad for my bubble / Despite how often it is penetrated by evil” remind us that we are… awful. At the age of 25, Kline is halfway to 30, stuck between tender adolescence and settled adulthood. Kline cradles the gray areas of life. 

 exists as a middle ground between start and finish, embracing the growth in between.

 demonstrates a growth from the band’s previous albums when focusing on the instrumental fullness. Kline’s songwriting has always been there on past albums and remains strong, but there is a clear distinction between the instruments on 

, where Frankie Cosmos was only a two instrument band, to 

, where a bassist, drummer, and keyboardist all shine in their own ways. On “Cosmic Shop” and “Windows”, jaunty drums from Luke Pyenson sound reminiscent to a Peter Bjorn and John song. “A Joke” offers a synthetic drum machine approach until the end of the song where the snares and top hats bloom. It seems to fit in with the songs lyrics “Flowers don’t grow in an organized way, why should I?,” where even the drums have a difficult time staying in the role it chose at the start. Fans of Frankie Cosmos would recognize “Rings (On a Tree)” from Greta Kline’s solo 

 EP series, yet the band’s addition on the song evolves it into a funkier melody. The contrast between the two emphasizes the band’s impact on this album and how the members create a richer, fuller sound that colors in the background of the Frankie Cosmos template. It sounds like Frankie Cosmos with a little extra.

Not every song needs the extra flair of the band to be a great band, though. “Marbles” is one of the sweetest songs on the album and contains just a gentle acoustic plucking. It’s a song wrapped in pure love and tenderness. Kline’s soothing voice sings ‘Oh darling, I wanna give you all my marbles,’ and you feel like the air you’re breathing is sweeter. The shortest song on the album, “Self-destruct” also only features an acoustic guitar, but with darker lyrics like “Not violent enough to self destruct, but I wanna stop being in this life.” Kline has the gift of turning her thoughts, both good and bad, into poetry. Then turning that poetry into music that plays in your dreams.

Frankie Cosmos is able to add and subtract gravity on each song. One will float you away while the other will pull you into the ground. 

 doesn’t fail to continue this streak. The album feels authentic and collaborative. One can only hope that the future shines as bright as what the band has been churning out.

Frankie Cosmos is only growing with ‘Close It Quietly’

SWMRS played at Paradise Rock Club on April 12th joined by Destroy Boys (replacing The Regrettes) and Beach Goons. SWMRS brought their new album, Berkeley’s on Fire, to a higher level of power through their performance.

Max and Cole Becker are brothers, but on stage they behave as foil characters, like fire and ice. Max carried this coolness, a controlled energy in his presence, letting his guitar skills take the lead. Cole, however, was a firecracker. Adorned in a “Fuck The NRA” T-shirt with “Hellboy” written on the back, his movements were erratic and almost cartoony. He played acoustic guitar (with anti-fascist messages etched into it) sparingly, only for the slower songs. There was a charming goofiness about him that brought songs like “Berkeley’s on Fire” and “Hellboy” to life. It was ironic that Max sang “Too Much Coffee” because it seemed like Cole had three more shots of espresso than he could handle. But it worked for him. He danced and marched around the stage, at one point telling the audience “it’s time to dance like no one’s watching”.

They played a balanced number of songs from their first album, Drive North, as well as their second album, Berkeley’s on Fire. For someone that was expecting exclusively songs from Berkeley’s on Fire, this felt like a special treat. Songs like “Hannah”, “Figuring it Out”, and “Miley” acted as the bridge between the older fans and the newer fans. When everyone was screaming “Miley is a punk rock queen,” it felt like we were all a part of something bigger.

There isn’t a question as to why the crowd felt a sense of togetherness: in between songs, Cole emphasized the importance of community, holding onto each other even when everything feels like it’s falling apart. One of the more admirable parts of this concert was how hard they try to make it feel personal: Cole reached his hands out for fans to hold; Max made sure everyone was okay. Their speeches felt preachy at times; but the intention was there and wholesome. Even with the mosh pits, the screaming, the all around franticness of the concert, SWMRS made sure to nail in one of their main messages: the world sucks right now, be good to each other.

As someone who wasn’t impressed with the newest album, hearing the songs live made me reconsider how I felt about them. Max and Cole Becker are the front members of the band, but each member carries so much talent that it’s difficult to pinpoint who is the most impressive on stage. Joey Armstrong’s explosion on the drums gave a foundation of passion, radiating throughout the venue. The jostling and jumping of the crowd were influenced by Armstrong’s drumming rigor, especially on songs like “Harry Dean” and “Lose, Lose, Lose”. Jakob Armstrong, Joey’s brother, is the newest member to SWMRS and he proved his musical talent on the guitar in a relaxed state all the way through. These are professional punk rockers and they are not here to mess around.

The night ended with Cole jumping into the crowd at the climax of “Harry Dean” and dragging the mic out from the middle. The intensity lingered in the hearts of everyone as they shuffled out of Paradise. No one was tired despite two hours of dancing and singing along.

SWMRS @ Paradise Rock Club

, SWMRS has taken control of the punk rock scene. Now, with the release of their sophomore album 

 they’re leaning on fans’ support in an effort to evolve their sound. Despite carrying notes of rebellion, the album is more toned down than 

 and takes on a more deliberate approach with its meaning. In a press release, Cole Becker 

, “When we were writing these songs we were very conscious of our role in creating a space for people to escape from the nonstop negative media cycle.”

In just ten tracks, SWMRS manages to craft an album that demonstrates an array of color and richness. “Berkeley’s On Fire,” the first single they dropped, is emblematic of the project as a whole. The track criticizes negative responses to protesters and riots while in itself being a protest and song. The metallic sounding production, along with Cole Becker’s abrasive voice singing lines like “Too many motherfuckers confusing this freedom speech with swastikas” radiates a rebellious energy that seems to define SWMRS. “Hellboy” also plays with the theme of criticizing the way the country is run and how it ultimately paves the way for mass shootings and gun violence. As the most aggressive song on the album, it’s also the most fun and lively. Cole’s voice once again aptly fits the roughness of the song. Joey Armstrong on the drums creates one of the most ferocious beats I’ve heard, perfectly complementing the track’s gritty production.

What differentiates SWMRS from other punk bands are their more somber songs that show off expert songwriting skills. Max Becker, who sings along with his brother, has a voice made for tender songs like “Bad Allergies” and “IKEA Date,” making 

 a showcase in Cole’s impressive vocal range. Both songs stand strong despite their calm nature, making the album feel richer and more dynamic. “April in Houston,” which was written about a train crash that happened near one of their concerts, brings sobering lyrics a contorted production that the album’s more energetic songs pull off so well. The result is a harmonious dichotomy, promoting the range of skill that SWMRS has already proven.

Even though “Berkeley’s on Fire” and “Hellboy” successfully achieve the punk riot style while still maintaining their message, “Lose, Lose, Lose” falls short on this project. The track preaches the same kind of message as the other two, but with lines like “Dear Vladimir Putin, stop fucking up my shit / Cuz I can fuck it up faster,” the track ends up bordering on ridiculous. Considering that this album reflects a more mature version of the band’s songwriting, this felt dissonant to what they were aiming for. While the other songs felt grown up, this felt like an angry teenager that just found out the world isn’t fair. Even “Steve Got Robbed” felt more mature because the lyrics were comical on purpose. Whereas “Lose, Lose, Lose” attempted to make a commentary that resulted in something laughable. Along with this, the song’s glitchy, hip-hop influenced production is a strange pairing with Cole’s distorted vocals.

 stands as a valiant effort from the band to craft a more mature sound in their discography. Although they do achieve a new level of maturity and provide a unique perspective in punk music, the album feels like it’s trying too hard at times. The songs that impress the most are the ones that radiate a natural confidence that their first album embodied so well. SWMRS does need to be applauded for the perspective the album takes on: one of worldly self-awareness and social consciousness. If they can blend the feeling of 

, SWMRS will be something the world will remember.

SWMRS makes a statement on new full-length ‘Berkeley’s On Fire’

From the cracks of the Los Angeles punk rock scene grew FIDLAR, a skater punk band writing music about some of life’s grittiest aspects: beer, drugs, and forever-youth. That was 2013. Six years later, FIDLAR released their third studio album 

, evolving from their original brand of partying and youth to a deeper and more mature perspective, still featuring Zac Carper’s signature yelling.

Many of the tracks criticize some of society’s worst perspectives and the consequences that they produce. On “Too Real,” the band addresses self-righteous attitudes that arise from the need to be the most “woke.” Lyrics like “You can blame it on the left / You Can blame it on the right / No, just admit it, you just like to fight” are packed with the FIDLAR bitterness fans know and love, but it’s elevated to a more worldly topic. “Get Off My Rock” carries a heavy Beastie Boys sound with a sincere message about the gentrification seen in the members’ homes of Los Angeles and Hawaii. “Can’t You See” mocks the highly sought after material lifestyle of trendy LA areas with tongue-in-cheek lyrics like “Meditate, you can get rich quick/ Don’t talk, just like my shit.” They don’t pussyfoot their criticisms.

In “By Myself,” fun ska music dances with depressing lyrics like “Yeah, started from the bottom and I’m still at the bottom,” touching upon the struggles of excessive drinking and the loneliness it produces. FIDLAR often plays with this dichotomy of mixing upbeat music with nihilistic lyricism, but this song stands out (not just because it sounds like Smash Mouth). Even the signature lyric “Well, I’m crackin’ one open with the boys by myself” expresses the struggles of excessive drinking and loneliness while hiding behind thin humor. The buoyant rhythm makes it a fun standout track on the album while the lyrics make it a memorable one as well.

 is the instrumentals beyond the abrasive guitar riffs and frantic drums. The exclusively instrumental track “Almost Free” features an arrangement of horns, a novelty to FIDLAR’s discography. Carper explains in an 

 with Upset Magazine that “We have horns on this record, fucking trumpets and saxophones and trombones and shit; we went for it,” also noting the risk they’re taking by “putting out on the fucking line.” The risk was well worth it. In “Get Off My Rock,” harmonicas, sirens, and barking saturate the song. It’s refreshing, though, and confirms that they weren’t messing around when naming their band “Fuck It Dog, Life’s A Risk.” With all the outside influences being incorporated into the album, I expected it to be messy, incongruent and unoriginal. However, besides its few faults, like the forgettable “Flaws,” which sounds like a bland Black Keys song, each song makes sense. Each song has FIDLAR’s signature flair that erases any doubt of originality.

FIDLAR stepped back from their edginess, but the result isn’t a bad one. It speaks to a band that has matured over the last six years. It speaks to a band that has thrown the fantasy of bumming around on a dirty mattress in a bare apartment with your friends away. Their songs still may hold this callousness, especially on songs like “Nuke” and “Alcohol.” But there are sweeter, more controlled moments as well, like the floaty “Thought. Mouth.” and “Called You Twice” with K.Flay, a cathartic duet about Carper’s recent breakup. FIDLAR is ten years old, and in their junior album, they make an admirable effort to reflect on that age and mature lyrically and instrumentally. 

 demonstrates self-awareness while still saying “Fuck it, dude, life’s a ride.”

FIDLAR returns with newfound maturity on ‘Almost Free’

People saw two females coexisting in a hip hop space, and they remembered the tacit rule of this culture: there’s only room for one.

Noname, Rico Nasty, Princess Nokia are not rappers.

They are female rappers, emphasis on the female. Hip hop was born in the cradle of masculinity and has evolved within it. Female rappers like Noname knock at the glass ceiling only to find themselves shut down, any achievement earned prefaced with the infamous “female” label, minimizing them to something lower than the ordinary male rapper. The hip hop community has fostered this segregation by celebrating masculinity and degrading femininity, either by pitting any woman who dares enter the rap game against another or by simply integrating misogynistic lyrics into their music. One 

 of rap music from 1987-1993 proved that 22% of gangsta rap music contained violent, misogynistic lyrics. Not to mention 11 of 14 of Eminem’s tracks on 

 hold women-hating lyrics, such as “Slut you think I won’t choke no whore? ‘Til the vocal cords don’t work in her throat no more?”.

Nicki Minaj’s ‘Queen’ peaked at #2 on the Billboard 200 this past August, 8 years after the released of her debut album ‘Pink Friday.’

It’s a miracle that woman have even broken through this rigid wall of toxic masculinity. One of the first to do this was Nicki Minaj. However, when Minaj entered the rap game, a lot of her songs fed into this cycle of misogyny with lyrics like “If I had a dick, I would pull it out and piss on ‘em [bitches]…” and “Bitch talking she the queen when she looking like a lab rat.”

One could argue that the lyrics are the product of a culture she’s been forced to conform to, a culture that uses violent lyricism and hatred as a form of gatekeeping. In order to gain success through this platform, Minaj must call other girls “bitches” and “cunts” even if it goes against her true feminist intentions. Her intentions become doubtful, however, when she perpetuates this anti-female attitude in various interviews.

“Every two years I get told about some new female rapper. To me, it’s silly to compare me to women because there’s no woman that can put up the stats that I’ve generated,” Minaj said in a 

. It becomes apparent that she recognizes the minimal legroom woman have in the hip hop community, but rather than working to make room for other females, she carries the title of ‘Queen’ to mark her territory. She entered this game alone and she wants to keep it that way, suppressing all other woman competitors.

Cardi B appeared on the cover of the November 2017 Rolling Stone issue.

 R&B/Hip Hop Artists list, there were only two female rappers. One was Nicki Minaj, but ranking ten spots above her is a new contender: Cardi B. When Cardi B popped up this year, it seemed like a good thing for women in rap. Finally, another woman who will help create a larger and more welcoming place for women in hip hop. But the history of this culture has made it clear: this is not allowed.

It wasn’t just that Minaj monopolized the female rapper role, she actively fought against other women who might claim the title. It makes sense that she would act this way, considering in her climb to the top, she digested the rhetoric of a community that fed anti-women attitudes by either pitting females against each other or just objectifying them down to two or three holes. She found success in a community that hates her.

There have been a lot of feuds in hip hop, like 

, where Meek Mill accused Drake of using a ghostwriter for his songs. The difference between other rappers’ feuds and the Cardi B and Nicki Minaj feud is that this one boils down to misogyny in rap culture. This feud wasn’t sourced around music writing skills like the Drake and Meek Mill feud and most other beef between male rappers. Looking back at the 

, their animosity was due to the smothering accusations from the Internet, often by the public over analyzing their lyrics and motivations.

Cardi B leaves Harper Bazaar’s ICON event with a noticeable bump on her forehead after allegedly throwing a stiletto at Nicki Minaj. Photo by Steven Ferdman / WireImage.

The accusations were designed to provoke the artists, especially Cardi B. People saw an up-and-coming female rapper and compared her with a veteran because they share the same gender and race. People saw two females coexisting in a hip hop space, and they remembered the tacit rule of this culture: there’s only room for one. Internet rumors flew and stretched beyond limits either of the women was capable of handling, which escalated to the infamous 

 at New York Fashion Week in September. If the culture made it more accessible to women instead of carving out a little space for one woman only, Nicki Minaj would not feel as threatened by Cardi B. Cardi B would be less inclined to believe the rumors. The rumors probably would’ve never even happened in the first place. Instead of celebrating these women’s hip hop accomplishments, the culture scrutinizes their actions and appearance and then forces them to compete against one another.

It’s easy to look at two women and compare them, even if one of them has more in common with other male rappers. It’s easy to blame either one of the women for starting a fight they didn’t have the choice to back out of. If Minaj wishes to remain relevant among artists like Kendrick or Kanye, the culture shoves her into the ring with the next up-and-coming artist and the world watches them brawl it out while they criticize their sexuality and ignore their talent.

Noname performing at the Royale on January 10, 2019. Photo by Chris Triunfo for WRBB.

By paying so much attention to the volatile relationship of these two women, we continue to neglect the talent of women beyond them. Noname dropped 

 by reputable outlets like Pitchfork and 

, calling it “one of the most quietly powerful rap albums of 2018.” Her lyrics are injected with strong messages directed to fellow women, specifically black women, who are one of the most targeted demographics in hip hop. Her flow is graceful, inventive, and she proves tremendous artistry and talent in this album.

Even with those achievements, her album was swept under the rug with one word: female. The discussion of her lyrics, her flow, is inside the framework of her gender, minimizing the raw talent she has. She’s garnering respect and popularity but under the boundary of the female narrative. As wonderful as it is to have females in rap, there’s an extra step that women are forced to transcend in order to have the same basic respect as male rappers. It’s a double-edged sword: either she is hated by the public because she’s a woman, or loved by the public because she’s a woman, confining her to a one dimensional understanding of her music. I’ve been distinguishing between “male” and “female” rappers throughout this article, but in a casual context, there should be no distinction. Noname’s music is rap. She’s a rapper.

These women are picking up steam. They’re being recognized, and much of the misogyny that suppresses their career is being called out. However, it’s a process that needs constant nurturing and protecting if we are ever going to rip “female” from the label and open the gate to let women enter the “serious” discussion of rap. If we are ever going to eliminate the one-woman-at-a-time quota and finally allow women in hip hop to be treated in the same respect as men, we need to be mindful of our treatment of women in this culture and our passiveness to the misogyny that prevails. There’s no reason to exclude so much talent just because Eminem hates women.

 a rapper. Every woman that raps is a rapper. No ifs, ands, females, or buts about it.

From Battles to Bigotry: The Barriers of Sexism in Hip-Hop

On a miserably cold night in a tiny venue called Brighton Music Hall, a duo named Brasstracks injected life into the night. Their genre of “future brass” makes for one of the most explosive, entertaining concerts that anyone can ask for. The Vibrant Tour with Kemba and Pell lived up to its name in the exuberance that the two brought to the stage (along with their many guest artists).

Brasstracks. Photo by Sarah Sherard for WRBB.

Kemba opened up the concert with a slow start that ended with a fiery bang. Switching up between his rapping with a DJ behind him and rapping bars about his personal take on gentrification and society a capella, the dynamic performance sparked the audience’s enthusiasm and interest. He often pumped the audience up by having them repeat lyrics like “Do that shit, do that shit, do it” along with, as he put it, the “therapeutic” lines “Do you know who you fuckin’ with?” By the end, everybody in the room thawed from the snow outside, and we were ready for the main act.

Brasstracks stepped on the stage supported by a round of cheers and applause. Looking around, the duo drew an eclectic crowd of every age, race, and gender. It makes sense, though, considering the play a medley of hip hop, jazz, electronic, and pop. There seemed to be a little taste of everyone’s music preferences. Where Kemba started off slow, Brasstracks jumped out with a bang. Trumpets are an underrated instrument, each note acting like a bullet of power that takes the crowd by storm, and trumpeter Ivan Jackson seemed fully conscious of this.

From the very beginning, Jackson, drummer Connor Rayne, and the backup brass players exploded in energy and life. Along with the trumpet, Jackson also controlled the beats on his Mac and the keyboard next to it. This was an impressive feat to watch: his eyes flicked from each instrument with intense concentration, trading priorities every few seconds while still managing to look effortless and spirited. While Jackson fronted a multitasking superpower, Rayne’s speed and precision at the drums was an event within itself. His drumsticks bounced off snares and hi-hats faster than the human eye could catch, making his hands blur in the rush of the song.

At one point, Jackson playfully said “So if you can’t tell, this is pretty much the Brasstracks and Friends Tour,” in reference to the guest artists that joined them on stage including Fatherdude, Kemba, S’ntra, and Pell. Fatherdude was the only non-hip hop artist, bringing R&B to the set. Even though the drums and trumpets were so profuse, Fatherdude held so much control over the power of his voice that he was never once drowned out. Brasstracks had a chemistry with each artist that allowed them to complement each other instead of competing.

After a few more Brasstracks songs where Jackson’s trumpet playing ripped the room apart, S’ntra stepped on stage (probably so Jackson could take a breather). S’ntra rapped a few songs alone before Fatherdude stepped out with him, captivating the audience with an energetic performance of “Opposite Ways,” acting as the crux of all the genres played throughout the night. The jazziness of the trumpet, the R&B of Fatherdude, the hip hop of S’ntra, and the electronic of Jackson’s synths; it all worked.

After Brasstracks performed a cover of a Ja Rule song, noting at the end “Shoutout to Ja Rule, despite the Fyre Festival,” they brought Kemba back out on stage. The amazing part of this concert was the infectious fun that Brasstracks seemed to have with the rappers. When Pell, the last feature artist, performed, Rayne drummed with life as Pell leaped around the stage, rapping with ease, while Jackson enthusiastically switched between Mac and keyboard. They finished off with playing a cover of “My Boo” by Ghost Town’s DJ, a song from their new EP, and a cover of “XO Tour Llif3” by Lil Uzi Vert (of course, the crowd ecstatically supplemented the absence of lyrics in both covers).

When we walked out, that cold January night felt warmer, somehow. Brasstracks had the ability to connect a diverse audience. People with a range of music tastes came together to enjoy one group and develop an appreciation towards others. The Vibrant Tour was just that: vibrant.

Brasstracks brings eclectic audience to Brighton Music Hall

The brevity of the album does not diminish its quality, but instead heightens the emotional intensity and punches the listener with such curtness.

Earl Sweatshirt stands apart from others in the rap game with his unique flow, fuzzy production elements, and most interestingly, his deliberate retreat from any kind of spotlight. Most recently, Earl dropped 

, a very unassuming name for an album so intensely personal. It acts as a follow-up to his 2015 critically acclaimed 

I Don’t Like Shit, I Don’t Go Outside

. The album dropped in a hushed breath, without much hype. With only 24 minutes and 15 tracks, I didn’t expect much. However, 

 reaches a nuanced level of hip-hop, infusing fuzzy, avant-garde production with cathartic lyrics that speak to Earl Sweatshirt’s mental illness and isolation.

An abrupt start; “Imprecise words,” said from a sample by author James Baldwin, followed by Earl’s smooth flow and a looping beat with bubbly effects weaved throughout the first song ‘Shattered Dreams’. It’s both disorienting and calming at the same time. ‘Shattered Dreams’ sets the stage for the lo-fi hip-hop sound that Earl is so famous for crafting. The rest of the album flows in and out of songs like this one, songs so short you barely know when one ends and one begins. However, each one of them holds their own in weight. ‘Loosie’, the shortest on the album at just under a minute features a distorted and looping piano, giving the song a disturbing feeling of sinking. The brevity of the album does not diminish its quality, but instead heightens the emotional intensity and punches the listener with such curtness. There’s no waiting around, no wondering when a song will end. He draws you into his space and keeps you captivated for the entire 24 minutes.

Earl draws inspiration from lo-fi hip-hop artists like 

 and Medhane, shouting them out on the song ‘Nowehere2go,’ one of the more blatantly confessional songs on the album. Lyrics like “I think I spent most of my life depressed/ Only thing on my mind was death” are less of a poetic rap bar and more of a cathartic expression of where his mind’s been while writing this. The rest of the songs also speak to the emotional turbulence he’s struggled through over the past few years, including ‘Red Water,’ centered around the rocky relationship with his father who died earlier this year. Even further, his mother and his father were both sampled on ‘Playing Possum,’ where it featured his mother giving a ceremonial speech and his father reading his own poem “Anguish Longer Than Sorrow.” His father died before Earl got the chance to send him the album with the song in it, making the song feel more like a tragedy than a tribute.

 experiments with lo-fi production, which can often sound unfinished or clunky. But Earl manages to make it an avant-garde beauty. The song ‘Peanut’ offers minimal instrumentation, with only in-and-out piano notes, but adds the element of fuzzy record player sound effects that scratch and pop to make a simplistic song feel rich with age. The album is full of lush beats and eccentric samplings, giving every song a new depth with each added sound. ‘The Bends,’ where Earl raps about his isolation in his rap group Odd Future, somehow finds a beat purely on the repetition of a sampling of a woman singing. It’s fascinating and poetic how so much understatement can elevate the album to a contemporary style unique to Earl.

 out to the world with barely more than a Twitter promotion. Neither the name nor the length speaks to the artistry hiding within each track. It’s a new form of hip-hop that Earl cleaned up and mastered, making him one to be respected and admired for.

Less is more on Earl Sweatshirt’s lo-fi masterpiece ‘Some Rap Songs’

When I go to concerts, I’m conditioned to expect GA – standing around, pushing to the front, craning my neck to peek past the 6’3” man directly in front of me. Apparently, adult concerts in adult venues don’t fall into this category. Julien Baker performing with Lucy Dacus and Phoebe Bridgers at the Orpheum Theater epitomized an elegant type of intimacy that drew in an audience of all ages. I was excited to watch all three solo performances, but I, unfortunately, missed Dacus’s performance, only seeing her when she joined Bridgers and Baker on stage for the boygenius set.

I sat comfortably in my designated seat when Phoebe Bridgers walked out, platinum blonde hair creating a stark contrast against her black Victorian style dress and tights. She looked like she was plucked from an 18th-century funeral. This look was especially fitting when she performed ‘Funeral’ where UV lights glowed and revealed a neon ghost on the stage backdrop, reflecting her album cover. Her haunting voice moved the entire room and made the venue feel more beautiful, more classical. The band accompanying her fueled the performance with their chemistry, particularly the drummer, who supported her vocals on the Gillian Welch cover of ‘Everything is Free.’ The set ended with her most popular song ‘Scott Street,’ where she paced around the stage and sat down during the outro lyrics of ‘Don’t be a stranger.’

Julien Baker followed Bridgers as the headlining act, and the people playing shrunk from an entire band to just one girl center stage with a guitar, a piano, and some synth pedals. Baker showed off her talent, but there was something missing throughout her performance. When I listen to her album, ‘Appointments’ always manages to strike me hard, yet it didn’t translate properly on stage. She seemed to notice, too, making note of how mistakes are an opportunity for growth after finishing the song. At the end of her set, the synths overwhelmed the venue and consequently shook the mic and her voice. Even with the success of her powerful voice and emotional guitar instrumentals, the difficulty with the set didn’t allow her to settle into the groove of the performance.

The real gift came when Dacus, Bridgers, and Baker stepped back on stage to perform a short setlist as boygenius. Decked out in coordinating bedazzled jackets, they acted as a team: trading off verses in songs like ‘Salt in the Wound’ and angelically harmonizing in others like ‘Me & My Dog.’ What struck me the most was how purely joyful they were. Even if the music was sad, they passed smiles and waves to each other in between songs. During ‘Salt in the Wound,’ Bridgers and Dacus literally bowed down to Baker during her guitar solo. Even though Baker was the obvious star of the band, Dacus’s vocals reverberated throughout the venue and added a poignant sophistication to each of the songs. Boygenius being saved for last was a real treat for the audience, bringing together three talented artists who found their own way to express their own skills and personalities during the set. Even though the place felt so formal, that formality melted away when the audience connected with the chemistry they exuded on stage. boygenius felt more intimate, more real, and more enjoyable to watch.

Julien Baker, Phoebe Bridgers and Lucy Dacus bestow a powerfully intimate performance at the Orpheum Theater

Not even heavy rain and 30 mph wind could stop a line from forming out the door of House of Blues for the Hippo Campus concert. The rain didn’t bring down anyone’s mood as we hustled our way into the warm venue. We waited for the opener, The Districts, to make their way on to the stage, anticipating the energy they would give the room. The audience welcomed them with open arms as they put on an enthusiastic rock show. I overheard one audience member summarize them perfectly: “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone headbang while playing an acoustic guitar.” In each song, they captured the grit of an American rock band with an acoustic indie twist. It was fascinating to watch the guitarist bounce around like a firecracker on stage, hair flopping and plaid shirt blowing. I was surprised to realize that I knew their song ‘Ordinary Day’, making this not only a great opener, but a familiar one as well.

The Hippo Campus tour was to promote the band’s new album 

, so it only made sense that they opened with the song ‘Bambi’. During the song, the trumpet built up the room with excitement, making it a perfect introduction for the rest of the show. Let me emphasize: I love the trumpet player. I think they placed DeCarlo Jackson near the back of the stage because he would’ve stolen the entire show if he had been at the front. During his trumpet solo in ‘That’s the Way It Goes,’ he radiated pure soul and energy. Even when he wasn’t playing, watching him dance along brought a smile to my face. Jackson is truly the most underrated member in the band and that’s saying a lot, considering how talented the entire band is at performing.

Jake Luppen, lead vocalist, carried a strong voice with a huge range throughout every song. He kept his eyes closed at the start, appearing almost timid. As the concert progressed and he sensed the audience’s approval, he began experimenting with his facial expressions and movements. At some points, he stuck out his tongue, widening his eyes. At other points, he locked out his hips and fell into the dance groove of songs like ‘Simple Season.’ By the end of the concert, The entire band got more and more comfortable. During the encore, the guitarist and bassist shared a kiss while Luppen belted out ‘Violet,’ rousing up the crowd and creating an exhilarating ending.

The most intimate part of the concert was during their most popular song ‘Monsoon.’ They slowed it down and let the song draw itself out, making the largeness of the House of Blues feel like an intimate venue. It was a delicate moment amid the excitement and dancing, making the audience feel more connected with the band. A sweet interlude added in the middle of the song suspended it in air, allowing the audience to appreciate the moment.

Hippo Campus put on a great set that diverged just enough from its studio album format without becoming unfamiliar to the audience. They managed to showcase all the members’ talents and the success of every single song impressed me. The show proves that they aren’t just a run-of-the-mill indie rock band that’s going to fade out. Their raw talent can only lead them to a lasting impact of success (especially with that trumpet player).

Hippo Campus shows raw talent at The House of Blues

Following a recording hiatus, Elvis Costello returns to prove that his talent did not dwindle.

It has been over a decade since the last time Elvis Costello and The Imposters banded together in the studio to produce an album. He left it ambiguous as to whether he was going to record another album by telling Mojo, “I’m not of mind to record anymore.” For a time, he stuck to live performances, straying from any new music after 2010’s 

 that “[it] portrays my band The Imposters and myself [as] who we are now.” 

 acts as a storybook, a collective of other people’s tragedies, as Costello steps into the role of others and seeks to voice their struggles with empathetic precision.

The first song ‘Under Lime’ picks up where Costello last left off in ‘Jimmie Standing in the Rain’ from 

. The sequel depicts washed-up performer Jimmie trying to get back into television by participating in a back-alley type game show. He develops a creepy obsession with the young girl working on the show who is assigned to “keep him amused”. It’s a contrast to the other admirable and resilient characters on the album, but it still shows off Costello’s impeccable songwriting skills and The Imposters touch for musical glamour.

‘Burnt Sugar is So Bitter’ jumps out as the star of the album among a collection of masterful songs. Written with songwriter legend Carole King over 20 years ago, the song tells the story of wife who is left to pick up the pieces after her husband left her behind. The characters in these songs are tinged with tragedy, exemplified with lines like “They already know how a woman may advance/ From a pretty picture hat to a supermarket trance.” With brass horns and a powerful gospel choir aggrandizing the band, the layered arrangement fits perfectly within the cohesion of the album while also leaving a lasting impression on the listener. King and Costello’s musical talents complement each other while producing a song reminiscent of early 60’s pop.

While Costello’s tender and heartbreaking storytelling is evident throughout this album, the emotional landscape is reinforced by The Imposters and their brilliant virtuoso. It’s commendable that the sound feels so pure, not relying on production. All the songs sound like the culmination of talent and practice instead of studio tricks. Costello and the band seem to have the natural ability to effortlessly pick up where they last left off and to stick to a sound that listeners have loved since the 1970s. Burt Bacharach, a famous pianist who Costello has worked with before, composed the piano arrangements for ‘Photographs Can Lie’ and ‘Don’t Look Now’. Bacharach works in his style of simple yet complex piano numbers that make the songs even more touching and somber. ‘Photographs Can Lie’ speaks about the heartbreak of passing time, where a woman nostalgically looks at a happy picture of her family after finding out that her father was cheating on her mother the entire time. The soft piano ballad enhances the sensitivity, making the song carry a weight of emotion that the listener can sympathize to.

Look now: Costello is back in business. The album proves that in his recording hiatus, his talent did not dwindle. He paints rich narratives filled with dimensional characters in songs that somehow weave themselves together seamlessly into cohesion. Costello demonstrates the control of music that he’s famous for and his age only purified his voice, singing with more rawness than ever. Hopefully, 

 won’t be the last of this reappearance because it seems like there’s a lot more story within him.

https://open.spotify.com/album/7dvbHsQbTs5RqE9iRgXHCC?si=gXDQh0AiR3WSlkCyqHp5tg

Elvis Costello is back in business with ‘Look Now’

The two expectations I had for the Middle East were that it was part-venue, part-restaurant and “the fries are fantastic”. It turns out that the fries 

 fantastic and so were the acts performing that night, especially the headliner, Future Generations. I passed through the restaurant crowded with people eating delicious food and walked into a surprisingly empty space. There were maybe ten people in the room, meandering about with a beer in their hands. People awkwardly avoided stepping anywhere near the stage, preferring the anonymity of the dim lighting in the back of the room. Throughout the concert, the room filled with more people, calming the nervous energy.

The three-artist lineup kicked off with Teenender, an underground pop band that perfectly fit in with the neon pink, atmospheric lighting that blanketed the stage. They floated a low-key vibe, at one point shouting “Red Sox!” into a slightly autotuned mic between two of their songs. Their indie pop sound was a feel-good starter to the rest of the concert.

The second artist, Zuli, seemed to be familiar among the crowd. Many of the audience members seemed to personally know the artist, making the performance feel comfortable. Although the surf-rock music got people dancing and happy, Zuli, unfortunately, experienced technical difficulties throughout the set. While he played one of his newer songs, his guitar cut out during an electrifying solo. It was frustrating to him and to the audience because we fell in love with the song. He had explained that he was particularly proud of this song, too, so we all felt his frustration as he tried everything to get his guitar working. The bright side is that even with the aggravation of technology, Zuli built up the energy in the room with music that sounded like an abrasive version of The Beach Boys.

Future Generations packed the stage with their five members and myriad of instruments, including two laptops that contributed to their atmospheric sound. The energy radiated warmth as the band played ‘Suddenly,’ lead singer Eddie Vore’s twangy voice easing the room into a slow sway. Vore’s white jacket stood out amongst the other members’ darker ensembles. My eyes always drifted towards Vore because he had a bounce to him as the music electrified him from head to toe. It also helped that he was at center stage, the spotlight focusing on him.

In the end, I wasn’t exhausted like I was expecting to be after a three-band concert. All three energized the audience without overwhelming the intimate space. I left feeling pleased along with everyone else in the room and knowing for sure that the fries at The Middle East are, in fact, fantastic. I hope Future Generations rewarded themselves after the show with a big plate of them.

Future Generations brings atmospheric sound to the Middle East

It’s as if Huock ripped the lyrics from a page out of his mind, lending a stream-of-consciousness flow to the songs. It makes it more present and more honest.

: that is life. Embracing its uncertainties, and inviting the twists and turns. Matthew Huock cradled this philosophy in his arms when he traded Brooklyn for Nashville and offered up bachelorhood for fatherhood. Five years after Phosphorescent’s famous 

 was released, life gifted Huock some age, some wisdom, and even some boldness. 

 creates a new edge for Phosphorescent’s music, adding more confidence onto the illustrious alt-country sound fans loved before.

The first lyrics on the album, after the wordless ‘Black Moon / Silver Waves’ introduction, are “I wrote all night / Like the fire of my words could burn a hole up to heaven / I don’t write all night burning holes up to heaven no more.” A goodbye to old ways begins the album as Huock begins to explore his personal life, something he specifically refrained from on previous endeavors. While the production is as meticulous and thought-out as his past works, Huock’s lyrics on 

 feel more first draft. In ‘There From Here,’ Huock candidly expresses growing with his experiences with lines like, “If you’d have seen me last year I’d have said/ ‘I can’t even see you there from here.’’ Many of the lyrics are on-the-nose – which is not necessarily a bad thing. It’s as if Huock ripped the lyrics from a page out of his mind, lending a stream-of-consciousness flow to the songs. It makes it more present and more honest.

The first half of the album marches out, commanding the attention of the listeners. ‘New Birth in New England’ holds the confidence of a Paul Simon song, boasting an enthusiastic gospel choir, spirited piano notes, and an upbeat guitar strum. It doesn’t hesitate to melt into a cerebral hum for a few seconds, forcing listeners to hold their breaths before picking up into the same bar-song soul that it started out with. Amidst the uncertainties of the universe, ‘New Birth in New England’ remains sure of itself and it speaks to a new type of confidence that Huock has. ‘Around The Horn’ echoes this same boldness. A fire catches in the song’s heart as the fervent piano and atmospheric synths carry Huock’s voice across the song. It grabs listeners by the hand and dares them not to listen to the full eight-minute epic (and you’ll listen). The song ascends into a journey bigger than anything Phosphorescent has delivered before, and it empowers the album.

It’s unfortunate that such an optimistic start to an album quickly diminishes at ‘Christmas Down Under,’ a song hard to listen to because of its overly auto-tuned backing vocals that resemble the Mii character songs (seriously!). It’s obvious that the lyrics are meant to be contemplative, but singing “Some say Jesus had a daughter / But I don’t guess he ever met her” comes off as more cheesy than profound. It’s a misstep in a generally solid album, but it throws off the mood for the second half. Instead of the rest of the album feeling poignant and beautiful, the lingering mistake of ‘Christmas Down Under’ leaves a lackluster feeling.

 stands as a sign of maturation for Huock. Instead of weeding out his roots, he grew with them, and bred a memorably ambitious album. “A lot can happen in five years,” 

. After listening to this album, I believe him.

Phosphorescent ascends into a newfound journey with ‘C’est La Vie’

Where do we draw the line with sexual misconduct in the music industry?

Warning: This article contains details of sexual assault.

Recently, indie rock artist Garrett Borns (BØRNS) has been accused of 

 by multiple women, including one that claimed he had been grooming her since the age of 16. The allegations involve sexual harassment and manipulation where he would meet girls at concerts or on social media and use his stardom to coerce them into sending nude photographs. The first victim, Nia, posted the Tweet that began the trail of accusations detailing how he was a “manipulator, horrible ‘friend’, and user.” At one point during their friendship, she claims he took advantage of her while intoxicated at a hotel. Another girl came forward, saying he caressed her leg when she was only 16 and continued to groom her until age 18 when he had sex with her (the user clarified to say that she’s not accusing him of rape). Twitter account 

 was even created to collect and archive the stories of women who had similar experiences.

Although the All Things Go Festival dropped him from the lineup after the allegations, BØRNS continues to tour, selling out shows filled with young, adoring fans. He denied allegations in a 

 on Instagram that sounded like a copy-paste from a group-chat ridden with other likeminded indie creeps. To him, it was nothing more than a misstep in his glory. He continues to reap the benefits of being a male musician: the young girls, the pass on sexual allegations, and — let’s not forget — the drugs, sex, and rock & roll. BØRNS is the most recent of musicians to have a story break out, but he is far from the first. It seems that in the time during the #MeToo movement, the music industry has had an impenetrable force field around it. Chris Brown and R. Kelly hold the most controversial scandals involving abuse (and just straight up pedophilia), yet they not only continue to make music, but they continue selling records and touring. What do you say to young girls who look up to Chris Brown and shrug their shoulders at his violence towards Rihanna? What do you say to them when 

 Chris Brown and R. Kelly both reached a celebrity pedestal where they seem to remain untouchable amid allegations and accusations.

The worst part? The list of men who fall into this category is extensive — and disregarded. Iggy Pop, Jimmy Page, John Lennon, Bill Wyman, Anthony Kiedis, and Steven Tyler are just a few more who have accusations against them, and whose accusations bounced off the shield guarding their careers. In fact, Kiedis’ statutory rape with a 14-year-old Catholic schoolgirl 

 ‘Catholic School Girls Rule’ — a song they’ve made money off of, a song they’ve performed in concert, and a song fans learned the lyrics to, centers around Kiedis’ sexual relationship with a minor.

BØRNS at the Vogue Theatre in Vancouver, B.C. on January 20, 2018. Photo by Quinn Middleton.

BØRNS attends Paris Fashion Week in 2017. Photo by Pascal Le Segretain / Getty Images Europe.

There also thrives a power hierarchy within this endemic, too. Lily Allen opened up in an 

 with the Guardian about her sexual assault by a very powerful record industry executive. She wrote about the trauma in her book where her publisher then advised her to leave the man unnamed. The #MeToo movement can only go so far when women are gagged when trying to say the name of the man who hurt them. It’s a vicious pattern: Big Executive assaults a female artist, she is forced to continue working with him for the sake of her career, and even when she speaks out, she leaves him anonymous due to the wall of power built around him. According to Allen, the industry “allows and sometimes endorses toxic behavior by men towards women.” The musicians who are accused are willingly overlooked while their producers manipulate their power to avoid accusations in the first place. The musicians prey on the fans while their producers go after their celebrity clients like Allen, Kesha, and Chloe Howl. Women never stand a chance at survival in this environment.

The music industry grew from this seedy slogan of “sex, drugs, rock & roll,” which spiraled into men getting a fast pass on being creeps. How are we supposed to combat something that thrives on the exploitation and disempowerment of an entire gender? It’s a hard thing for even the #MeToo movement to challenge. One of the biggest problems that could be addressed is simply the lack of female representation within the industry. In 2017, The Annenburg Inclusion Initiative 

 that showcased this disparity of gender, with only 2% of the study’s 651 producers being female. For female musicians, there is a pernicious lack of any female mentorship or guidance. The only thing that they’re taught is to 

 men in power to harass them. There needs to be a more unified voice of women, perhaps an organized union, that can help prevent this kind of exploitation from their producers and executives. As for male musicians, there needs to be more of a repercussion for their wrongdoings. Rapists, pedophiles, and abusers should be thrown in jail instead of slapped on the wrists. Celebrity status shouldn’t mean anything when it comes to justice, and until that day is seen, women continue to be left in the shadows of male entitlement.

Why is no one talking about BØRNS?

The ‘Yoko Effect’ returns to plague Ariana Grande in the wake of Mac Miller’s death.

What do you do when someone leaves this world too early? What do you say when the reason is from a lost battle, a battle written about, talked about for years? How is the world supposed to react when such a soul like Mac Miller is suddenly no longer here? On September 7th, 2018, legendary rapper Mac Miller was reported dead from a drug overdose. Shocking, tragic, and devastating, people scattered to search for an answer, to place blame. It’s unfortunate that his death so quickly turned into a witch hunt where ex-girlfriend Ariana Grande is the target. The implication that she has anything to do with his death revolves around a misogynistic outlook on a woman’s role in a relationship. Ariana doesn’t deserve it, and neither does Mac Miller.

The timeline of Ariana Grande and Mac Miller starts out cozy in 2012 with a duet cover of the Christmas classic ‘Baby It’s Cold Outside.’ The two stayed friends for the next four years with dating rumors here and there until August 2016 when they went public with their relationship. The relationship flies under the radar for almost two years until May 2018 when Ariana announced her split with Mac Miller in the most amicable way possible and saying that they remain friends. It’s only after their relationship that things start getting messy. While several news outlets report on her budding relationship with Pete Davidson, other outlets report on Mac Miller’s drunk driving that caused him to demolish his Mercedes G-Wagon and get him arrested. This is where the Yoko Effect begins.

” simply states that when a man begins a relationship with a woman, he allows the relationship to consume his life and it becomes the cause of all his future actions. Yoko Ono ransacked The Beatles, stealing John Lennon along the way, and inevitably breaking up the band. Courtney Love introduced Kurt Cobain to heroin (false) and then coerced his suicide (or even murdered him). Your friend Jake disappeared from the friend group because new and shiny girlfriend Melissa has him under Nazi lock and key and he’s slave to her every command. And Ariana Grande caused Mac Miller to slip back into his drug abuse.

When Mac Miller crashed his car, Twitter fans pinned it on Ariana. One user wrote, “Mac Miller [totaling] his G wagon and getting a DUI after Ariana Grande dumped him for another dude after he poured his heart out on a ten song album to her called the divine feminine is just the most heartbreaking thing happening in Hollywood.” The tweet, although not the only one, was the most popular because it was the only one Ariana chose to 