“This next song is about death!” At a Laura Stevenson show, this is not an uncommon thing to hear. Her onstage persona is darkly witty, a little self-deprecating, and above all, entirely sincere.

, Laura has built a discography of similarly-minded songs featuring swift guitar playing and painfully honest lyrics about suffering, guilt, and longing. Her most recent record 

, released this past October on Don Giovanni Records, moves away from the folk leanings of past releases in favor of a confident rock-driven sound. For the past month, Laura has taken these energetic new songs on a full-band U.S. tour with shreddy chiptune pop trio 

. Lucky for all of us, this tour will be stopping at Great Scott in Allston this Sunday, May 1st.

I got to chat with Laura about the tour, her approach to songwriting, and what musician she has pictures of all over her apartment.

How is the tour with Chris Farren and Crying going so far?


So far the tour is great! The routing is super easy, everyone is really nice in every city. Chris and Crying are both awesome but also really really different so it’s a fun show.

I noticed that recently you’ve been playing a lot of solo acoustic shows before this tour – how is it playing solo shows vs. with a full band, especially now that you’re touring with songs from 


Solo is cool. It’s kind of scary because I can’t hide at ALL – but I can play songs that don’t work full-band. It’s really intimate and it’s definitely helped me grow as a performer to put myself out there like that. 

 is a very full-band record, more so than any other record I’ve done, so it has been super fun playing the new songs with Mike, Peter, Alex, and Sammi. It’s exciting to be a part of something that sounds really big. It’s freeing in a different sort of way but, you know, there are more variables, less is in your control so you just have to trust everyone’s instincts. Luckily all my bandmates are awesome, so it works out and we can all just let go and play. It’s nice.

What are your favorite songs to play on this tour?


“Torch Song” and “Tom Sawyer” have been really fun. Also “Out With a Whimper” has been great. All the new ones are fun. We have also been doing a cover, which is always the most fun for me – not sure about the audience though [laughs].

I listened to your Spotify commentary for 

, where you mentioned that Sammi would bring in a great drum part that would influence a song, you would think of a certain bass line with Mike in mind, and so on. I’d love to hear more about what your bandmates bring to the table when recording, performing, etc.


Playing with them for a while has definitely influenced the songs when I’m writing them and thinking about the full-band arrangements, then we do a lot of brainstorming together if it’s more open to interpretation. Each song is different. I want everyone to feel enriched by their experience in the band – not just like they’re playing what someone wrote note for note. It’s more fun and positive when everyone can be creative and feel fulfilled. All my bandmates have great and different taste so they really help to bring the arrangements where they need to go.

You have always been very open in your songs and onstage about your experiences with depression, which I think is absolutely something that resonates deeply with people. What is your mentality towards bravery and honesty in your music?


I think it’s important to be honest with yourself – but that’s hard to do. I struggle with depression every day – right now I’m so lucky to have a pretty good handle on it – but there’s always that hole close by that you have to be careful not to fall into. It’s a day-to-day thing – and meeting other people who experience that definitely gives me strength when I need it. Having the support of friends and fans who go through it has helped me so much. It’s cool, I feel like talking about depression has become way less taboo in the past couple of years and that’s such a good thing. I don’t think I’m being brave talking about it necessarily, I think staying alive when I didn’t want to was me trying to be brave. But it’s hard to say, everything is really different now. All I know is I’m lucky I’m here and that me talking about my shit can sometimes help other people and in turn, they help me so much.

Personal anecdote: I went to your show at Shea Stadium in December where you talked about how much you love Dolly Parton, and you got me listening to her music! Who are some other artists that have influenced you throughout your journey as a musician?


Oh yesssss! She’s everything to me. I have pictures of her all over my apartment, which I’m realizing sounds crazy. She’s just such a great songwriter and singer and performer and such a positive person. She makes me feel happy. Other musicians that have influenced me – there are a lot. Harry Nilsson, Judee Sill… I love songwriters who write and sing with equal sincerity. Townes Van Zandt, Tim Kasher… There are a ton more but those are big ones for me.

Who would be your dream lineup on a Laura Stevenson tour? Any artists/bands at all, regardless of if they’re living/active.


Oh man. The Trio – Emmylou Harris, Linda Ronstadt, and Dolly Parton – would headline. Direct support would be a fantasy band that I just made up: Jeff Tweedy, Neil Young, David Grisman, and bring back Levon Helm and Rick Danko from heaven for the rhythm section. We’d open the show, but no one would be there yet to watch us, but it’s cool.

Are there any current artists/pals/anything in general you’d like to give a shout out to?


My sister, Katie. She’s cool, she loves all types of candy – most of all Twizzlers. Also a shout out to Dr. Campbell, her dentist.

Laura Stevenson will be at Great Scott on Sunday, May 1st with 

. 8:30pm, 18+. $12 at door, tickets available 

Q&A with Laura Stevenson

“Your voice is beautiful, but that third song, I wouldn’t play that again!” Kiley Lotz laughs as she recalls the blunt feedback she received from European showgoers while supporting Beach Slang on their UK/EU tour earlier this year. She adds that she loved their honesty, finding it more refreshing than shocking. It seems fitting that Kiley would appreciate honesty and sincerity, because that’s exactly what one gets out of the melodic indie rock that she writes as Petal. On her debut record 

, released this past October on Run For Cover Records, she pairs radiant, angelic vocal harmonies and dynamic guitar chords with heartfelt offerings of candid lyrics like “I’m sorry if I seem unable to move, unable to speak, unable to breathe.”

Kiley’s first release as Petal came in the form of an EP called 

 back in fall 2013. During the two year span between 

, she was forced to adjust to some major life changes, specifically moving from Scranton, PA to New York City to pursue a career in theater. “I was really poor, I was auditioning a lot for theater jobs, and so I was in a very fast-paced, isolating, competitive situation.” Kiley felt like she was starting her life over from scratch, and eventually, the stress that comes with a new environment began to pile up. During this time, she was also diagnosed with a paranoia disorder, which she says was difficult to learn to live with but “pretty revealing and helpful” in the way that it allowed her to decipher her anxiety. To help herself sort out all of the change and confusion in her life, Kiley turned to songwriting not just as an artistic outlet, but as a survival strategy. “I didn’t really realize I was writing a record at the time… I just needed to do it to stay…okay, basically.”

Like many artistic projects so often do, 

 took on a life of its own when Kiley began to notice a pattern emerging in her work. “I was looking at all of those songs I had written and realized that the theme was definitely processing the things I felt shame over in my life and accepting them and then realizing that they don’t necessarily have to be total burdens.” After a second, Kiley adds, “Sometimes they certainly are. Like, they definitely are. But they don’t have to be so crippling.”

Once Kiley started becoming more open and honest with people in her life about her inner battles, she quickly found that she was far from alone. Rather than pushing people away as she had once feared, these issues became something that they connected over. “As soon as I said ‘I’m struggling with this,’ my friends were all like ‘Oh, well I deal with this,’ or ‘My family member has struggled with this.’ All of a sudden, it’s like this weird thread that everyone is holding onto a little bit… Now it feels a little less like I’m constantly trying to hide things or mask it with humor or charisma.”

 may not have been started a way of helping Kiley endure emotional crises, but that’s what it ended up being for her. “It was hard to go through those things, but it was great to put a seal on it by finishing a creative project, like symbolizing the end of that period of my life.” She says that she is unsure of what she’ll be writing about in the future, but the process of sharing her struggles through 

has taught her a lot about how to manage her mental health. “Living with mental illness is challenging all the time, but I’m learning how to take care of myself… and, you know, trusting that I have good people around me. If you have the right people in your life, they’re not keeping a tally of all the times they helped you get out of bed.”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JHlx7aAKSRY

Even though writing about heavy topics can be cathartic, Kiley admits that it can sometimes get exhausting and a little too self-involved for her liking. To combat this, she frequently draws influences from outside sources. “Chandelier Thief,” a song off of 

, took its lyrics from a poem that Kiley’s friend Nikki Ashton had written as part of a zine called 

“I read it and I was like ‘I would love to make this a song, if that’s okay,’ and she said yes. It’s been awesome because people have really been responding to that song and it makes me excited to have her words out there, and I know she’s excited too, so it was cool to do that together.”

Another song on the record, “Tommy,” was based on “Language of Angels” by Naomi Iizuka, a “really tragic” horror play that Kiley acted in while studying theater in college.After spending lots of time with the play’s story, she found herself “feeling kinship” with the character that she was playing, which inspired her to pen a song from her point of view. “It’s a good way to challenge yourself as a writer, to bring in other influences and see if you can make something different or tell a story that’s not your own perspective necessarily.”

Growing up, Kiley’s musical influences were a bit more mainstream: “I was obsessed with Behind The Music and watching VH1 when my parents weren’t home.” She loved Fiona Apple, Sarah McLachlan, “and basically anyone who was on VH1,” as well as artists her parents would listen to in the house, like Janis Joplin and Talking Heads. Kiley grew up learning piano, and at age 7, she started writing songs in her journals. “I realized at some point ‘Oh, they’re singing stuff that they wrote, I could do that too.’” She also cites Regina Spektor as a hugely significant influence during her teen years: “My Bible camp counselor gave me her CD, and my mind just exploded.” Kiley went on to meet some friends in high school who introduced her to the DIY scene around Scranton and helped her record demos, and at age 16, she start playing local shows doing piano and vocals. She recalls feeling intimidated – “That wasn’t really a ‘cool’ thing to do at the time because everyone was really into like, The Microphones and Against Me! and stuff like that in the scene” – but played anyway at the encouragement of her friends.

By the time she got to college, Kiley found herself at odds with the isolation that comes with playing and practicing piano. “I was like ‘I fucking hate this, I’m literally by myself all the time, it sucks.’” Eager for a new musical outlet, she was motivated to learn guitar, then decided she wanted to have a band behind her as well. Once she started making music with her friends, Kiley immediately felt at home in the sonically heavier sound that she was able to achieve with different instruments and additional people. “I just wanted to make 

 sound. With a piano you can make a lot of sound, and you can manipulate it so much, but not really as much as if you have other instruments with you.”

Kiley says that people often get confused by the configuration of her band – Petal is solely her own artistic endeavor, but she plays and records with a band of oft-rotating members – but she doesn’t mind explaining it, and she also wouldn’t have it any other way. “It’s fun to constantly be playing with my friends and bringing in new people to play on tours. Certainly challenging, definitely not the easiest way to do it, but I’ve met a lot of people by doing it this way and made so many friends by doing it this way.”

Petal is clearly a project founded in friendship, and when asked if she wanted to give anyone a shout out, Kiley had a lot to say about the people she loves: “I love my roommate Sammy Marx. I love our cats. She has two cats, so I’m their aunt, and I love my nieces. I miss them all the time. I also watched the Amy Winehouse documentary on the plane home and it fucked me up! So, shout out to Amy. So talented. It just breaks my heart.” (Kiley, if you’re reading this, I want you to know that I watched the documentary and it also fucked me up.)

The music of Petal is touching in the way that it sonically and lyrically documents the highs and lows of life. There will be times where we find ourselves wishing the ceiling would swallow us whole like in “Sooner” or feeling terrified that someone we love won’t want to stay like in “Shame,” but there will also be times where we feel like the soaring final verse of “Heaven” or the beautiful nervous energy in the swept-off-your-feet chorus of “Photobooth.” As we brought our interview to a close, Kiley’s parting words were just as hopeful as her songs: “Keep trying to do good. I’ll keep trying to do the same.”

Petal will be playing WRBB’s Spring Bliss this Monday, April 4th at 7:00pm in afterHOURS.

INTERVIEW // Kiley Lotz (Petal)

On the surface, last Wednesday’s lineup at Great Scott might not seem very cohesive in genre. The show mixed together LVL UP’s ’90s slacker rock, Florist’s electro-tinged bedroom pop, Kal Marks’ sludgy garage punk, and Brittle Brian’s experimental acoustic folk – and if there’s one thing these bands proved, it’s that cohesiveness can be seriously overrated.

Brittle Brian, a local favorite of WRBB, opened the show, but to my dismay I arrived late due to subway delays (big surprise) and only caught the end of her set. Luckily for me, she closed with a gripping rendition of my personal favorite, “Lizard Eyes,” setting creaky vocals and wry confessional lyrics against haunting solo guitar lines. In the past few months Brittle Brian has also opened for the likes of Frankie Cosmos, Pinegrove, and Porches, and I’m confident we’ll be seeing her make even bigger moves in the near future.

Hands down, the title of heaviest set of the night goes to the show’s other local opener, Kal Marks. Explosive drums and distorted bass riffs created a dense wall of sound that took me by surprise, and guitarist/singer Carl Shane spewed dark, neurotic lyrics with a unique vocal timbre reminiscent of Jonah Furman from the late Krill (RIP). Kal Marks will be going on tour this week, but you can catch them when they return to Boston on April 1st at O’Brien’s – and trust me, you want to.

Florist took the stage next and dialed the atmosphere back with their soft but powerful electropop. The set was mostly made up of songs from their debut 

out now on Double Double Whammy and written, recorded, and mixed entirely by bandleader Emily Sprague. On the record, these songs are quietly entrancing and meditative, like staring at the ceiling in your bedroom, but in a live setting they become sweeping epics. Emily’s airy, pillow-like voice carried deeply personal lyrics about pain, growth, and self-discovery over hazy electronics in “The Birds Outside Sang” and the melodic guitar lines of “Vacation.” I was very pleasantly surprised to notice that the room was relatively quiet during and between songs – something that is unfortunately rare at any show in a bar setting like Great Scott – and this definitely speaks to the absorbing, affecting nature of their music. Florist’s set was a beautiful and special experience – the type of live performance that makes you feel your existence as more than just your positioning in time and space.

LVL UP has been a top WRBB favorite ever since they played our annual Block Party show this past September. The band categorizes themselves as “slacker rock,” aligning them with 90s indie rock acts like Pavement and Silver Jews, but the lethargic image conjured by this title doesn’t give credit to the surging energy of their performances. With three out of the four members constantly switching off on lead vocals, their sets are always diverse and fast-paced, moving seamlessly from the crackly fuzz of “The Closing Door” to the twinkling and upbeat “I Feel OK” to the bewitching slow jam “I Feel Extra-Natural” – and somehow they manage to pull this off all while maintaining a unified signature sound and constant intensity.

We all know that sense of worry that comes when a band we really love comes out with new material – will it be good? Underwhelming? A disappointment? The prospect of hearing new music from LVL UP has been exciting, but also a little nerve-wracking. That said, any nerves I had were eased completely when they played four (!!!) brand new songs that fit right in with their current catalog. The very first song of the set held a standout moment in its ending, with guitarist/singer Mike Caridi matter-of-factly shouting a repeated line about “never finding love.” Former standbys like “DBTS” and “Soft Power” were conspicuously missing from the set, but I want to assure LVL UP fans that these new songs are absolutely worth making room for. It may be a bit presumptive for me to form a judgment based on a handful of songs I heard once at a show, but I feel safe predicting that we’ll be seeing an AOTY-level record from them this year.


by Samantha Stoakes // Photos by Jon Polen

SHOW REVIEW: LVL UP, Florist, Kal Marks, Brittle Brian // Great Scott 2.24.16

The first time I saw Pinegrove was in 2014, and I recall feeling instantly floored by their melodic, emotionally affecting brand of DIY indie-folk. I spent a lot of time voraciously diving into 

, and hoping that the Montclair, NJ-based band would soon return to Boston. The release of 

, now out on Run For Cover Records, has been long awaited for me, and I’m happy to say that it delivered.

It’s difficult to compare Pinegrove to other bands; calling them “DIY indie folk” brings bands like Saintseneca to mind, but while the two would be at home on the same bill, they don’t sound that alike. Pinegrove possesses the sort of sound that is unique, but somehow familiar and comforting all the same. Frontman Evan Stephens Hall has a slight twang to his voice that is complemented by a warm tonal coloring and earnest, impassioned delivery, making for a beautifully expressive and sincere vocal performance. Evan’s band features oft-rotating members, and on

, Pinegrove includes Zack Levine on drums, Sam Skinner on bass, Nandi Rose Plunkett on backing vocals, and Nick Levine on guitar. The band contributes to the record both in skill and personality, shaping expansive songs with full, energetic instrumentation and steady-like-a-train arrangements. “Size of the Moon,” which originally appeared on 2014’s 

 in an intimate acoustic iteration, completely transforms when re-recorded as a vast and anthemic track. I wouldn’t be surprised to hear that 

 was recorded live instead of through traditional tracking, because there is a palpable sense of raw impulsiveness present; these songs feel less like the result of a painstakingly precise recording process and more like a series of spontaneously captured cathartic breakthroughs.

On their Bandcamp page, Pinegrove has tagged themselves as “language arts rock,” which is a particularly fitting descriptor for 

. A major theme of the record is language, communication, and the consequences of too much or too little too late. “Old Friends” and “New Friends,” the two tracks bookending the record, are meditations on the importance of maintaining friendships, with cutting lyrics like “I should call my parents when I think of them / I should tell my friends when I love them.” Standout “Aphasia,” named for a neurological speech disorder affecting one’s ability to communicate, addresses the relief that comes with finally being able to let your thoughts loose. A deceivingly sad and wistful intro makes way for a victoriously strong finish as Evan says goodbye to everything that restrained him, singing “So satisfied I said a lot of things tonight / So long aphasia and the ways it kept me hiding.”

“Cadmium” takes this concept a step further inward and verbalizes the difficulty of defining nebulous, fleeting ideas and feelings in the first place: “Say what it is / It’s so impossible / But if I just say what it is, it tends to sublimate away.” In 

, Evan said that the song was inspired by his experience exchanging letters with a friend, stating “We started sending colors and art sometimes and found it to be a different and good (and sometimes more direct) way to say what we were feeling.” This reflects an unspoken theme of 

from both a musical and lyrical standpoint – the record strives to explicate emotions in a manner that is not restricted to words at their face value, but is conveyed in every line, every chord, and every hum. In another illuminating line, he says ”Everything I sing, I sing for me.” The song wrestles with the construct of self-expression and reclaims it as just that – expression that is precise and true to oneself.

Really, the entire record is all about Evan processing and organizing his thoughts, and you can feel him sorting through his inner dialogue every step of the way. It is as amazing as it is ironic that these songs about failed communication and expression could be so strikingly articulate and emotive. With 

, Pinegrove has crafted an impressively artful and authentic record that celebrates the ups and downs of a lifelong process we all share: making sense of everything that goes on inside our heads.

ALBUM REVIEW: Pinegrove – Cardinal

Pinegrove at Run For Cover Records // 2.3.16

Announced only 24 hours beforehand, Pinegrove’s solo acoustic set at Run For Cover Records was guaranteed to be a cozy and intimate experience. Around 50 people squeezed into the office, turned into a welcoming and relaxing space with couches and snacks. Run For Cover has a track record of being extremely involved with their fan base, and this was not the first time the label has opened their Allston-based headquarters to the public, having previously hosted open house events for Black Friday and Record Store Day. Taking full advantage of social media, they even ran a livestream of the performance on their Facebook page; by the end of the night, the livestream had over 8,000 views from fans who had tuned in from all over the world to watch Pinegrove.

Boston-based solo artist Brittle Brian opened the show with her experimental lo-fi songs. The quiet and sparse nature of her music may seem unassuming in a live setting at first, but they made for an intense, captivating performance. I found myself quickly drawn in by her creeping guitar lines paired with honest lyrics musing on the good, the bad, and the ugly in life. Highlights of her set included “Devil,” a song about death and Daniel Johnston, and “Lizard Eyes,” during which several heads in the audience nodded in knowing agreement as she sang “I’m not scared of feeling ugly, I am scared of being lonely.”

This was my fifth time seeing the Montclair, NJ-based Pinegrove, but my first time seeing them in solo acoustic form. Pinegrove is difficult to nail down into a genre, as their music seamlessly weaves in and out of indie rock, pop, folk, and country, so I was excited to see how these songs would feel presented in a different way. It quickly became apparent that frontman Evan Stephens Hall is the type of musician who plays how he feels and constantly switches up his arrangements, accomplishing the easier-said-than-done feat of capturing a new facet of emotion in a song every time it is performed. “Need 2,” a song I’ve heard dozens of times, felt new again as Evan delivered it with a heartbreakingly detached restraint that slowly built into pleading shouts. The stripped-down songs made for a dynamic set full of moments like this, frequently shifting between subdued, reflective introspection and big, stirring expression, but always spectacularly powerful from start to finish.

The set included songs off of their new record 

, now out on Run For Cover Records, as well as some older standbys like “Need” and “Problems.” Evan also played “Vowel,” an unreleased song that he introduced with a story about listening to Christian radio while touring through the South and becoming inspired to explore his religious curiosity. The highlight of the set, without a doubt, was the closer “New Friends.” As soon as Evan launched into the song’s jangly chords, almost everyone in the room was moving and singing with him. His warm, earnest vocals became even more joyful when joined by the audience’s unexpectedly enthusiastic singalong, making the performance all the more affecting. Maybe this is just me being sentimental and cheesy as hell, but it felt like a really special moment of togetherness – the sort of moment where a room of strangers really does feel like a room full of friends.

In short, if you’re not listening to Pinegrove right now, you’re messing up. Catch them at the Royale on April 21st with Into It. Over It., The World Is A Beautiful Place & I Am No Longer Afraid To Die, and The Sidekicks.

Brittle Brian will be playing later this month at Great Scott on February 24th with LVL UP, Florist, and Kal Marks.

To stay up-to-date with news and events from Run For Cover Records, check out their 

Written & filmed by Samantha Stoakes // Photo by Carly Goldberg

SHOW REVIEW: Pinegrove at Run For Cover Records // 2.3.16

The first time I heard Porches was in July 2013. I was laying on a hallway floor inside a stranger’s house after a basement show, and someone had turned all the lights off and put the band’s record 

 on the speaker system. I realize that this sounds weird and irrelevant, but it was an ideal setting for my introduction to the music of Porches – dark, uncertain, a little lonely. Three years later, these same themes re-emerge in the band’s latest release, 

 is very polished and produced compared to Porches’ previous efforts, an especially impressive feat considering frontman Aaron Maine wrote and recorded it almost entirely on his own in his Greenwich Village apartment. The record’s sound is an undeniable departure from that of the band’s early material, migrating from guitar-driven indie rock to experimental electro-pop. The mesmerizing opener “Underwater” immediately sets the tone for a collection of songs that masterfully paint pulsing, hypnotic atmospheres. The twinkly synths and thumping bass lines of tracks like “Mood” and “Glow” create inescapably danceable grooves; make no mistake, this record’s got some bangers.

 undoubtedly has a different feel sonically, the elements that set Porches apart remain. Aaron’s moody, crooning voice is still potent as ever, and the songs retainthe same intense and dreamy ambience of 

. Lush, trance-like soundscapes recall Angelo Badalamenti’s work on the 

 soundtrack; it might not be too far-reaching to say that 

 is like if David Lynch wrote a modern-day indie rock record. Occasionally, the songs deviate from spooky to unsettling; I want to like “Hour” for its ’80s feel and floaty verses, but the song’s grating, non-melodic intro synth line sounds less like a track pulled from the 

 soundtrack and more like the opening theme to 

, not merely due to the shift in genre, but because it simply doesn’t have the immediacy of old songs like “Headsgiving” or “Skinny Trees.” This isn’t to say that 

 is emotionally shallow; rather, it takes time for the material to sink in. The electronic overtones and AutoTune at play tend to obscure the record’s revealing lyrical content, with lines like “I just wait around to hear the good news / To hear from you” musing on conditions of longing and solitude. Hopefully longtime Porches followers will not underestimate the substance that 