Death and Rebirth With Hodera

When is a piece of art truly finished? When is it time to shift gears, call things quits, or reinvent?

These are questions that have inevitably been on the mind of Hodera’s Matthew Smith. The band itself began as Smith’s solo effort before becoming a true collaborative effort. And in a move that could be seen as overcompensation, Smith has once again found himself with a solo project, this time under the Bravely moniker.

This particular movement toward solo releases happened some point after 2017’s First Things First (and its supplemental follow up, Besides). And while reasons for the band’s informal hiatus remain shrouded in mystery (at least to me), the group decided to resurface earlier this year with another EP.

The band had this to say: We really only decided to get back together due to the constant online support. We thought our journey was done but you all pushed us to keep going!

Admittedly, it’s hard to keep tabs on which bands are active, which ones are putting out releases, which ones are on the cusp of new releases, and any of the multitude of factors connected to the music industry. It’s weird to realize how much time has past since some of my favorite albums. And when a band chooses to silently fade away, it’s even more confusing as to just what’s going on. They’ve decided they’re done, but fans don’t realize it. Needless to say, prior to reading this, I guess I missed the hint that Hodera was no more.

So, their return is certainly a welcome surprise (though their back catalog does indeed hold its own), but the bigger question surrounds why they stopped in the first place. After all, First Things First was a definite change of pace from United by Birdcalls, and while Bravely deviates stylistically, the sound is adjacent enough that it could have easily been published under the Hodera moniker – I’ve seen several bands turn to solo projects or rely on guest features but carry the same brand forward.

Certainly, there are few sure answers in this case. Maybe the whole spirit behind Bravely, the mental state where those songs originate, is vastly differently than what facilitated the Hodera songs. Maybe Hodera’s identity became a true cooperative work. Maybe everything that needed to be said was already out there. Maybe it was time, distance, money, priorities. We might never know, and it’s not imperative we do. But we do know that communal support was enough to bring the band back together for another recording.

And that seems pretty interesting – that Hodera and Bravely for once exist concurrently. It’s undeniable the new iteration of Hodera is a bit different after a few years off, but it’s not a detriment. The two projects have unique purposes enough to warrant a brand separation.

But what about bands like Thrice who have seemingly run the gamut on genre? The Alchemy Index on its own carried enough stylistic variety to surpass most bands, and that’s only a microcosm of what the band has explored. Cool Hand Luke has gone from midwest emo to alternative rock to piano-based indie and has seen several lineups, including a solo iteration. There’s something to be said about a band that, in a sense, manages to have a career that lasts a couple decades. And while that’s harder and harder in the modern world, uprooting the brand you’re most known for can seem like career suicide – or at the very least, akin to starting over. Compare the social draw of Margot and the Nuclear So and So’s to Richard Edwards’ solo work – the same artist under two different names is seeing disproportionate success.

Now, Hodera is smaller than all of the bands listed; arguably, they have the most to lose starting over. It’s hard to get the first hundred or 500 people to care, and doing it all over again is excruciating.

That’s not to say this distinction is wrong by any stretch or that Hodera is the only band that has done this sort of thing; what’s unique is that the band quietly dissolved but reappeared. Whatever defines their music, whatever unites the members… these are the core parts of Hodera as a project. It would seem other artists have fewer firm definitions for their art, allowing it to be malleable to some stretch. But others, in the case of The Felix Culpa, simply exist under the pretense that they’ve reached their magnum opus and that to carry on further would be a mistake. Some reasons naturally carry a greater degree of permanence, even if the band may later decide to do some sort of reunion after reconsidering things.

But Hodera was very much a young band with a small catalog. It’s hard not to feel that the end was untimely, much like a high school romance torn to shreds when the couple go off to separate colleges. All the band has said is that they’ve stopped playing a few years back.

But just as easily as Hodera vanished, they reappeared (perhaps with more longevity). So, much like we should consider the constraints for when a project is complete, we should too ponder when perhaps a project was sunset too soon and where there is still room to continue.

In the case of Hodera, You’re Worth It definitely feels like a chapter that was missing. It’s inviting and familiar, rife with the sort of comforting wordplay Smith’s lyrics are known for. The title, the impetus for reunion, and the band’s stance on mental health seem to point toward one major driving force for their persistence: their support base. It seems that a project once decidedly introspective has shaken its telephoto roots for a wider angle based around community – that this release, and the band’s resurgence, is for the community. It’s a sort of musical thank-you card. This alone was able to break whatever confines had been placed upon Hodera, if not expand the definition of Hodera as an entity.

Ultimately, it’s good to have Hodera back with this release. In all the questions and unknowns, the band have their reasons for their actions. Hodera’s career trajectory is one of intermittent rest and forceful rise, and the end result are songs that shimmer with struggle and endurance.

Review: EP1_2020 by New Language

RIYL: Spicy quarantine jams with timely lyrics

It’s perhaps both a great time and horrible time to release music these days. On one hand, shows aren’t happening, chaos has manifested in some pretty tangible ways, and art itself seems far less important than larger social challenges.

On the other hand, the audience is more captive than ever – and more in need of messages of truth, sensibility, and critical thought to help discern reality in a sea of fake news, personal anxieties, and general apprehensiveness.

Here, New Language‘s latest effort, the simply-titled EP1_2020, seems to ring true. The band has been working on its second LP for quite some time, and while it’s uncertain if these songs are a subset of what we’d find on the album or not, these three tracks speak well into our current pandemic – and beyond. I’m led to believe that this EP wasn’t initially planned but that our current circumstances prompted the band to put out this release. After all, New Language is not the sort of band that takes unreasonable risks and giving listeners an anchor for reality amid socio-political and personal turmoil reflects the band’s brand of community-driven efforts. This is a band known for donating album and merch sales to charities, so dropping this EP should certainly not be taken as a cheap grab for attention.

Instead, EP1_2020 makes every effort to comfort the restless and weary. New Language has continually managed to navigate socially-conscious lyrics in a way that avoids taking sides, and this is something I particularly respect. There’s a common empathy that whatever ideals we might hold, we are all in the same world trying to make it through.

On this EP, the lyrics feel more personal than ever. Lead single “NO TIME” speaks to the consumption, if not over-consumption, of media and its consequent consumption of us. That’s not to say naivete is a good goal by any stretch, but so much of what occupies our minds can become burdensome. We see this exemplified in some of the lyrics: “Losing my sight, losing my mind, no time, no time”. It’s the sort of sentiment that works best laid so bare. While there’s certainly more to behold lyrically, suffice it to say our relationships with others are strained by how we prioritize our time and what we treasure most. In a time where we’re cut off from many people we love, it’s even more critical we direct our efforts toward those who are hurting rather than cower in escapist fashion.

“PARANOID” is a particularly striking track, and its name is perhaps the most direct of the three songs on the EP. These opening lyrics set the stage for this introspective piece:

Lost control
Trying to steer clear
Why are we still here?

It comes and goes
Try to be sincere
But why are we stuck here?

These are certainly sentiments we’ve experienced before to varying degrees, but they feel even more timely. Why are we stuck here? It’s a statement that resounds on multiple levels, from potential international distress to the millions of jobs lost in a mere few weeks. It is easy to think and feel the worst in all of this when good news feels so rare, but a panicked response certainly is not healthy either. Instead, the band has this call-to-action for us:

Can’t let go, don’t wanna be so paranoid
Can’t let go, don’t wanna be so paranoid
Take away, take away fixed patterns
Break away, break away right now
Overthrow
Don’t need to be so paranoid

There’s a recognition of the unhealthy thought cycle and a desire to do something about it rather than be passively overtaken by fear. We tend to forget how even small changes in thought can have a huge effect when applied on a mass scale.

The EP ends on “CAN’T EXPLAIN”, a track accompanied by a video of LA during the quarantine which the band has created for their community. Lyrically, it feels like the most resilient track so far: even when confusion abounds, we will carry on for the people and things we love. The song’s title seems to have two sides to it – not being able to explain the current difficulties and also not being able to explain the hope and desire to push forward in a time where it’d be easier to sit things out.

Musically, the band has continued down their experimental tangent we first saw with “House of Cards”. Synths are more prominent this time around (and a central part of “NO TIME”). Things feel a bit poppier overall, though not to any sort of detriment. These are certainly the most palatable songs the group has released to date, with the band taking a more minimalist approach to songwriting so that every second truly counts – and there is certainly no time to waste here, no pun intended. While the group’s first LP was grounded in solid hard rock and post-hardcore and the EP played a bit more off alt-rock influences, this EP shows a new direction altogether. Certainly, New Language is still a rock band – but subgenre labels feel less apt to describe the core of what this band is crafting. At the end of the day, EP1_2020 is a fresh set of timely tracks that glimmer with perseverance and fortitude in an uncertain age, and that’s worth plenty all on its own.

Our Rating: 8.2 (Best New Music)

Song Premier: Cloud Caverns’ “The Eleventh Hour Effort”

“We were always waiting for the shoe to drop,
Here it is.”

Chattanooga’s Cloud Caverns has been crafting intimate, progressive folk for the better part of a decade now. Manned by Brandon Peterson, with intermittent friends lending assistance, the project has three full-length albums under its belt. More recently, Cloud Caverns has been releasing singles in anticipation of a new new full-length album.

Never shy to the discomforts of political corruption, disillusionment, and the the simple (yet unrelenting) pains of life, Peterson pens visceral songs that are poetic without being esoteric: they’re songs that frame the common threads of life in a way that manage to make something beautiful out of a reality that is often harsh.

We’re excited to debut Cloud Caverns’ latest single, “The Eleventh Hour Effort”. It’s a particularly timely song given the current health crisis. While the song’s lyrics speak of a house literally collapsing, it’s a state that many of us are experiencing emotionally. We are inside the house, it is sinking, and we’re not sure what to do. But the song is not prescriptive, instead slyly remarking, “That’s just life, is that right?”

All of this is juxtaposed against an otherwise upbeat sonic landscape, with prominent use of flute-like synth tones. It’d be easy to lose the serious undertones of the lyrics with a casual listen. It feels warm and playful, a nice change of pace for a project known to oscillate between intense alt-rock and spacious acoustic arrangements.

Check out “The Eleventh Hour Effort” below:

The Eleventh Hour Effort by Cloud Caverns

Quarantine Jams: What Our Writers Are Listening To

As the global pandemic develops, here’s what our writers are listening to, and why.

Let’s face the facts: we are living in scary and uncertain times. With most public life shutting down over the past few days, it’s been difficult to find a distraction from this fact. Everything happening on the news and in our communities shows that life is not normal. Meanwhile, we are stuck in doors washing our hands and twiddling our thumbs, waiting to see what will happen.

Fortunately, most of us still have access to our music libraries. As the global pandemic develops, here’s what our writers are listening to, and why.

NOTE: Bandcamp is giving their usual cut of the profits from purchases on the website to the artists on Friday, March 20th. Please consider purchasing these albums on Bandcamp to help the artists make money while they can’t play concerts, or albums from other artists that you love!

Ian’s pick: American Football, LP1

Anyone who knows me at a personal level will know about my love affair with American Football’s 1999 album. I first listened to it when I was probably 18 or 19. Since then, it has grown to be one of my favorite albums. It’s like a warm blanket and hot tea after a hard day. It’s the perfect soundtrack for any season, but particularly a chilly night.  But most of all, LP1 is one of those records that has the power to amplify my mood.  If I’m listening while happy, it fills me with a warm nostalgia that makes everything more beautiful.  While sad or anxious, its melancholy tone is more consoling than most any other album. 

As I’ve been dealing with the uncertainty of the high school that I teach at being shut down, and low-level anxiety while being alone in my apartment most of the time, the record has brought the warmth and companionship to get by.  It makes staying home appealing, because it brings out the coziness of life inside.  Maybe it’s the house on the album cover with the warm, yellow light shining out through the top window.  During this time, it’s nice to be reminded of the comfort of our own homes. Purchase LP1 on Bandcamp here.

Jason’s Pick: The New Year, The End Is Near

Western pop culture’s take on “apocalypse” usually involves people scavenging tinned meat from radiated convenience stores, or all of the ancient doomsday prophecies coming true (at once!). Or zombies. The End Is Near is apocalyptic, but in a way that hews closer to the word’s original meaning: it’s a revealing. In this case, The End Is Near revolves around anxieties that bind humanity.  

The New Year formed after beloved ’90s indie rock band Bedhead (often lauded as one of the formative “slowcore” bands) folded near the turn of the century. Songwriters/singers/guitarists/brothers Matt and Bubba Kadane still carry the Bedhead torch here: lots of single-note guitar lines woven together, odd time signatures, philosophy-after-four-drinks wordplay, and some surprisingly catchy melodies. And like Bedhead, The New Year sidestep a lot of standard rock tropes; this is  minimalist music without a clear verse-chorus-verse structure, which makes the occasional distorted guitars or hooks more powerful.

I genuinely love The End Is Near as a whole, but it has a few standouts. “Disease” is evergreen in its relevance, a rumination on the universal nature of suffering, specifically around illness. That it’s packaged with some nice guitar interplay and a slyly memorable melody doesn’t hurt. And “18” builds to a glorious climax while looking through the eyes of an elderly person reflecting on the limitations of the flesh. It’s chaotic, beautiful, and wonderfully humane. The End Is Near is full of songs like this, snapshots of people like us revealing their fears and heartaches. In a time of crisis, it’s a good reminder that we’re not alone. You can buy The End Is Near on vinyl here. You can also buy their latest album, 2017’s excellent Snow, on Bandcamp here.

Tyler’s Pick: Bell Witch, Mirror Reaper

My warning before suggesting this album is that this is an album that embodies despair. It is a monolithic exemplar of a degrading soul when faced with loss, destruction, death, and all that negative stuff. But oh my God is it beautiful. 

If you’re like me, the world doesn’t make sense and you’re constantly attempting to find meaning in it. With all the nonsense going on outside our closed doors, many of us are truly feeling the most negative emotions we possibly could be feeling at this point. Social isolation doesn’t necessarily breed positivity.

And sometimes, when we feel negative, experiencing art expressing those negative emotions helps us deal with them better. 

This album is one 80-something minute long track of the most droning, sludgy, metallic-tinged bass and drums that I’ve ever heard. It is an album depicting what it might sound like “on the other side.” To further cement this idea, the architects of the album use the voice of the at-the-time recently deceased drummer midway through as both a tribute to him and a reminder that death is always close. 

So yeah, if you’re not up for some awfully dark music in these awfully dark times and would like something maybe more positive, look elsewhere. Purchase here on Bandcamp.

Casey’s Pick: New Language, Come Alive

New Language burst on the scene in 2017 to critical acclaim and they quickly made their way on the list of my favorite bands. While their sound continues to evolve, their conviction is undying and their work ethic is indomitable. 

The band’s lyrics have always been socially-conscious, even laced with (non-partisan) political ethics. Their debut, Come Alive, is peppered with calls-to-action regarding critical thought, fighting through personal doubts, and persevering when the obstacles feel insurmountable. It’s a high-octane, intelligent release that musically straddles the line between hard rock and post-hardcore. It’s the kind of sound that typically gets abused and becomes offensively-commercial, but that’s not the case here. New Language seem to borrow as much influence from Bloc Party as they do from bands like ’68. 

Ultimately, Come Alive exists in the same emotional space as the current pandemic: urgent, uncertain, brooding, never stagnant. The lyrics are more timely than ever as we as a country, and as a human race, strive to make sense of the chaos and find order in the misaligned segments of society. Purchase here on Bandcamp.

 

 

Albums That Slipped Through The Cracks: Space Camp by Audio Karate, A Track By Track Review

FFO: WAVVES, Lagwagon, The Starting Line, Alkaline Trio

For much of the underground scene, Audio Karate has been of interest to many fans of punk rock, skate punk & pop punk genres alike. They had their moments of fame like when making it on MTV(UK) and playing with bands such as the descendants… But were always on the cusp of becoming something bigger & better, their freshman album “Space Camp” showcases this with full force. The first track off of the album “Rosemead” had ballad-like potential, the drums and guitar in the track are reminiscent of its time in the pop punk sphere. The lyrical content in this song may make you feel like you are reading a love letter to your valentine, while at the same time, the nostalgia may also make you feel a sense of longing and belonging somehow. There are very few albums I can listen to nowadays for the first time without stopping and this track caused me to do so. Much of this album has a track that is as infectious as the track prior in one way or another.

It starts to become melodic with the track “Drama Club Romance”… Here, we notice the signature guitar parts that stand out from many similar bands at the time. It’s like going to the beach and listening to pop punk, the waves pull me in more and more. This song is one of my favorites and more visited tracks for me personally. “Nintendo 89”, the first track I and many others first heard by this band, could have reached ballad status as well. To me, though, it was just that and more. Arguably the track has a My Chemical Romance-like entrance but eventually demanded that I mosh in the comfort of my own home.

The attitude of the album takes a turn from hopeful to heavy in the song “Hello St. Louis”, which could be considered the most surprising song as well. The sporadic and punch-filled bass solo turned into guitar solo parts jumped out at me as something that stood out on this record. It’s a good turning point for the album and could peak your interest(like it did mine) at what is to come in following songs. “Monster In Disguise” plays off of the previous track and adds even more fuel to the fire as the most emotional track on this release. The song seems to be about a bad relationship, though the lyrical content itself could also provide solace to some one feeling isolation and lonliness.

The songs to come may be surprising as the emotion suddenly changes to a more mellow vibe. “Car Ride Home” returns to the punk rock summer vibe that “Drama Club Romance” had, and also is debatably the most poetic song on this record. The music here yells 90’s skate punk and reciprocates that it’s still alive even in the early 2000’s while still being the most surprising track on this album(in my opinion). “Senior Year” continues this fashion and the nostalgia here is so infectious as it is the most child-like song here. “One Day” and “San Jose” were the least exciting tracks to me, they don’t offer much of anything too different but are still fun and catchy nonetheless.

However, the song “Jason” takes a turn in the album holding the place of the last song before the closer on the album. For me, in albums this is where I never know what to expect going into the last two songs. Although, this track specifically serves as the most raw version of the band at their time as frontman Arturo Barrios sings “can’t do this anymore”. The song as a whole is alluring and holds an explosiveness to it that is broad in the best of ways. Finally, we’re at the closing track “T-San”… Here, Arturo sings “so I say goodbye to you”, and to me this serves as a great closer for the album. It became a tearjerker after reading the lyrics in depth considering the heaviness that is so present here.

Overall, this album is one that constantly serves as inspiring and interesting. This record is so fun at any time of the year to me, I can throw it on almost anytime. It’s a gem as well as underground staple that has stood the tests of time, aging very well. Today the album turns 18 years old… So, happy anniversary/birthday to Audio Karate on the album(if you all read this), and congratulations on the more recent release of the incredible album “Malo” ! I am looking forward to whatever this band has up their sleeves next.

7.6 (Stand-Out)



Release date: March 14, 2002

Label: Kung Fu Records

Review: Random Desire, by Greg Dulli

The new Greg Dulli solo album is the creative culmination of a 30-plus year career.

FFO: Greg Dulli, Greg Dulli, and Greg Dulli

Random Desire is billed as Greg Dulli’s first solo project. Even if you ignore the fact that Dulli already had a solo debut in 2005 (possibly a technically , since it was released as quote Greg Dulli’s Amber Headlights end quote), Dulli’s bands—the Afghan Whigs, the Gutter Twins, and the Twilight Singers—were always driven by his singular creative vision. His bandmates played important roles, but they were always in service to whatever muse Dulli was following at the time. If Dulli is fronting a band, it’s going to sound like his project, period.

After “reuniting”* the Afghan Whigs in 2011 and releasing two albums (2014’s good Do to the Beast and 2017’s excellent In Spades), Dulli found himself in need of a creative outlet as the band again went on hiatus.  Random Desire is that outlet; inspired by Prince, Todd Rundgren, and other one-man-bands, Dulli wrote, played, and recorded the whole album himself (save for some guest spots from his pals). While there’s a slapdash quality here as a result, the album is still the most diverse release in Dulli’s career, revisiting almost every creative detour he’s taken while venturing down the occasional new path.

*more like adding an original Whig member to the Twilight Singers line-up

One of the most fascinating things about Dulli’s creative output over the years is that as his songwriting accumulated new wrinkles, he’d take those elements to his next project and continue building. So while the Whigs started off as a loud college rock bar band with serious ’60s R&B/soul undertones, they kept expending, ladling in more and more nuances. And then the Twilight Singers added a dollop of electronica and sunny indie rock. And the Gutter Twins folded in some late ’80s Nick Cave vibes. Random Desire keeps with this trend, as all of these elements swirl and slosh around. Some songs, like the glorious “The Tide,” revisit touchstone points (in this case, Black Love-era Afghan Whigs, with a huge upswell of guitars, piano, and Dulli’s howl). Other tunes try some new tricks, like opener “Pantomima”—it’s maybe the single most joyous-sounding thing Dulli has released. And “Scorpio” slinks along with a sexy vibe that’s carried by a trip-hop backbeat and some impressively syncopated verse vocals from Dulli.

If Random Desire suffers, it’s mainly from the limitations of keeping this to a one-man affair. I’ve always found Dulli an underappreciated musician, a true jack of all trades whose musicianship was always eclipsed by his huge on-stage persona. But while a more-than-capable multi-instrumentalist, Dulli’s playing never strays far from what he’s done before. The same can’t be said for his vocal performance—Dulli’s raspy yowl aims for some sultry low notes that are far out of his range. It’s endearing, but still a bad fit for the album. And it’s also not helped by the thin-sounding production; Dulli might’ve been shooting for this early Prince aesthetic, but it doesn’t mesh well with the anthemic swells that frequent his songs.

Random Desire is also the most lyrically diverse of Dulli’s career. Dulli’s songs have always been about the brooding and self-destruction that comes with passion. But here, he seems to take a step back and look at the sadness, joy, and peace that comes from relationships (or, like in the album’s standout “Marry Me,” broken relationships). It’s still Dulli, but this is the most mature he’s ever sounded (or, his persona has sounded, if there’s any actual difference between the two).

Clocking in at a mere 37 minutes, Random Desire covers a lot of ground in a little time. Even with its limitations, the it’s the most true sounding recording Greg Dulli has ever released. Maybe that’s why it’s being billed as his first solo album.

Our Rating: 7.9 (Stand Out)

Random Desire is out now on Royal Cream/BMG.

Review: The Better Way Home by Stalgic

FFO: Pianos Become the Teeth, The Receiving End of Sirens, Tiny Moving Parts, The Republic of Wolves, Sorority Noise

Green Bay-based Stalgic may have been around for only a few years now, but they’ve certainly been a staple in the scene, playing alongside fellow emo/post-hardcore act Bottom of the Lake, regular frequenting Jambalaya, and releasing EPs and splits in various shapes. Needless to say, they’ve keep an indomitable pace and assimilated well into the larger scene for alternative and emo. They’ve managed to outgrow a local audience and even get national, and international, attention via playlists like Dreambound.

While Stalgic has been known for their high-energy shows and somber lyrics, they’ve typically been on the “lighter” side of punk-adjacent genres. Not so on The Better Way Home, a release that feels appropriately encapsulated in the description of melodic hardcore. The classic chunky basslines and spiraling The Receiving End of Sirens-esque guitar lines are back in full force, but there are pockets of screaming and spoken word that add some more depth to Stalgic’s sound.

Tom Zwicker’s voice is eerily familiar to that of The Republic of Wolves’ Mason Maggio, though certainly of a deeper timbre. This isn’t to detriment whatsoever; in a genre that thrives off good cop-bad cop vocals of high tenors and the low growls of chain smokers, this down-to-earth baritone tone is refreshing and sits well in the overall mix. It feels genuine and earnestly carries the lyrical content across.

Kristian Pearson and Brent Harkonen are in full force, interweaving dual guitar parts with the utmost intricacy. Stalgic thrives on melodic integrity, and that’s certainly in no short supply on this release. Of course, there’s a bit of dropped-tuning chugs as well. Imagine 2006-era post-hardcore and you’ll get the idea. It’s a sound that is somewhat retired at this point but isn’t quite ready to hang up the hat.

Cooper Miller’s drumming is non-intrusive, providing a solid glue for the rest of the band. It’d appropriately dynamic, with plenty of tight tom work throughout the album.

The Better Way Home is undeniably a brief release – its nine tracks sit shy of half an hour, with two interlude-type tracks sprinkled in. Even so, there’s a lot packed into each of these tracks. Fans of Pianos Become the Teeth and So Soon, The Truth will immediately feel at home, those this is just a particular subset of would-be comparisons. Case and point, it’s fast, emotive, perhaps even dizzying.

The band is unfortunately challenged by an oversaturated genre that has stagnated somewhat for almost two decades. It’s evident they’re trying to break the mold, especially with some of the heavier portions or mathier types riffs. However, it’s a task that feels so insurmountable – it’s hard not to feel like Sorority Noise, The Hotelier, and similar acts have already marked their initials over this sonic space to some degree. And even if a band manages to expand on this sound in one way or another, it’s bound to feel derivative to some degree.

Even so, they make good use of their resources. Again, Tom Zwicker’s voice is a key defining element. The guitars, at their most melodic points, are beyond impressive. The stripped-down “Where I Stand” is a nice change of pace, even if it’s a bit more forgettable than some of its counterparts. Overlaying vocal parts and harmonies here and there are a nice touch. For the most part, Stalgic makes strong use of dynamic elements.

The Better Way Home shows a pretty neat advancement in Stalgic’s sound and the fact they’ve managed to garner a larger audience is admirable. This is a not release without some of the clichés of emo and adjacent forms of punk, and things do feel a bit too homogenous at times – but the discerning ear will appreciate some of the intricate details that set Stalgic apart from their peers. This band is still young and they’re progressing as they shape their sound. Only time will tell what they’ll do next.

Our Rating: 6.8 (Solid)

Learn more about our rating system here.

The Better Way Home by Stalgic

Review: Weathering With You by RADWIMPS

One of the reasons that I listen to music is for an escape, an experience that the Japanese create masterfully.

Makota Shinkai is currently one of Japan’s premier film directors.  He rose to international fame with 2016’s Your Name, which was the highest grossing anime film at the time of its release.  Although I am no film critic, I can say that Your Name lives up to the hype.  The characters are loveable, the story is gripping, the visuals are stunning, with the over-all effect of causing an emotional reaction in the viewer.  Shinkai followed up Your Name last year with Weathering With You, which debuted in U.S. theaters last month.  I went to go see it by myself on a whim one weekend after watching a trailer.  Although I have only seen it once, it instantly became one of my favorite films, anime or not, in recent memory due to its visual beauty and touching story. 

Although I am stuck waiting for the film’s home-release, one of my favorite aspects of it is widely available for consumption: the soundtrack.  Both Your Name and Weathering With You were scored by the same artist, Japanese pop-rock band, RADWIMPS.  The band’s first release was through a Japanese indie label back in 2003; since then, they have signed to a major label and have enjoyed great success domestically.  The soundtrack of Your Name helped them reach more international listeners due to the film’s popularity.  Although most consider Your Name to be the stronger film, Weathering With You definitely features the stronger soundtrack. 

The way the album Weathering With You plays, one would think that RADWIMPS has been scoring movies for their whole career.  Many soundtracks do not merit listening outside of the film context besides a few isolated tracks, unless the listener is a big fan of the movie the music goes with.  Weathering flows like an album.  At about one hour in length, it swells and hushes, changing tone and instrumentation just enough to stay interested while also remaining sonically consistent.  The music is mainly piano-driven, with lush instrumentation supporting it.  There are acoustic guitars, woodwinds, and soaring string arrangements flying in at all the right times.  It is possible to be emotionally moved by the soundtrack alone; it hits all the right sentimental chords to bring out goosebumps.

The initial draw of the soundtrack is the lyrical songs.  Although the film is not a musical, it wouldn’t be an anime if someone didn’t at least belt out an opening nnumber.  The five non-score songs are all either beautiful, catchy, or both.  “Voice of Wind,” is an addicting piece of guitar pop that I have found myself, somewhat embarrassingly, playing on repeat in the car.  Two cuts, “Celebration” and “Grand Escape,” feature vocalist Toko Miura, who’s pitch-perfect voice adds a dramatic flair to the anthemic choruses.  Due to these songs’ popularity, RADWIMPS have released an EP featuring them in their un edited versions, plus an English version of the closer, “Is There Still Anything That Love Can Do?”  This will be linked below the full album. 

Although I started out listening to the EP so that I could hear the full songs, I gradually found myself transitioning to listening to the full album.  The greatest benefit of listening to the whole soundtrack together is getting to hear how these songs fit into the score.  Tracks such as, “Sky Clearing Up,” “First Part-Time Job As Sunshine Girl,” and “Running With Hina,” feature the same melody as the full-band closer, “Is There Still Anything That Love Can Do?”  Each time the melody appears it does so with a slightly different arrangement or emotional tone, keeping it from becoming repetitive.  This, to me, is one of the hallmarks of a great soundtrack because it gives the listener something to grasp on to.  The soft, nostalgic notes feel like a reward that is hard to put into words. 

As East-Asian influence continues to seep its way into Western pop-culture, I hope that more American/European audiences discover music like this.  One of the reasons that I listen to music is for an escape, an experience that the Japanese create masterfully.  Putting on a record, especially a good soundtrack, allows me to be transported to another world.  Because these songs are mostly instrumental, and I don’t speak Japanese . . . yet, not having the distraction of lyrics allows me to sink into the world of the music and let it seep into my own world.  It makes me reflect on the film, but also see my surroundings in the magical way that RADWIMPS brings to me through their work. 

Our Rating: 7.7 (Standout)

Weathering With You is out now via voque ting co., ltd.

Review: Honeymoon by Beach Bunny

FFO: early Best Coast, Diet Cig, surfing and crying

It may be late February, and we may be in the throes of winter (certainly here in New York, where upstate we got into the lovely sub-zero fahrenheit zone this month, fun!), but Chicago power-poppers Beach Bunny want you to feel like it’s the worst summer of your baby-adult life and you’re hitting the ice cream stand in Venice Beach for what was originally supposed to be a date, maybe getting a good bit of your vanilla soft-serve all over your face as you gaze blankly into the ocean because you forgot napkins. Then again, perhaps this summer-bummer pop serving is a timely release (they’re not an LA band, after all, so it’s not like everything has to be on script), as it dropped (intentionally?) on Valentine’s Day and could potentially fit the mood for you sad singles out there who spent the holiday sinking into the couch as you consumed cheap chocolate. That works too. Either way, Beach Bunny’s debut full-lenght, ironically dubbed Honeymoon, will hit that sweet tooth craving sugary melodies and songs of wistful heartbreak.

Forming in 2015, Beach Bunny has a genesis like many other projects by talented young songwriters these days, in the comfort of a bedroom, and perhaps in the discomfort of a broken heart, too. Lili Trifilio, a student at DePaul University at the time, solidified her project into a full-fledged rock band two years (and two EPs) later, and brought in the buzz with their 2018 EP, Prom Queen. Hitting all the right “sad-girl” notes, Trifilio’s songwriting on these early releases exhibited a sharp ear for pop melody that married the sweet and sunny with the melancholy, applying it to familiar post-Weezer power-pop dynamics. 

Soundwise, Honeymoon doesn’t stray too far from the pack. It’s simply an expanded version of what Trifilio has already established with her non-album releases. Opening with the breezy bubble-grunge of “Promises,” we find Trifilio wondering something we’ve all wondered before while in the depth of post-heartbreak: “When you’re all alone in your bedroom, do you ever think of me?” she sings in an honest alto that sounds a little bit like the singer she has perhaps drawn the most comparison to, Bethany Cosentino, while dipping ever so slightly into a subtle vibrato that sounds a little bit like a more subdued Marissa Paternoster. “Cuffing Season” follows faster punk dynamics. There’s a mindset that seems to define the romantic lives of the two generations that Trifilio straddles the line of, the self-embracing of introversion clashing with the desire for intimacy, a feeling she touches on here: “Maybe we are getting too close/Paranoid permanence is just an empty promise/Sometimes I like being on my own/I’m afraid of winding up alone.”

The highs of this brief album really hit in the middle. “April” brings in a janglier spin to Trifilio’s crying-fest. “I’m sick of counting tears, wishing you were here,” she sings over classically chipper Johnny Marr extract. It subsides with a noisy jam and is followed by the wonderful ballad “Rearview,” a quieter moment where the stripped back arrangement makes the heartbreak in Trifilio’s voice all the more noticable; there are moments you hear her voice shake, as if she’s about to cry (and kind of wants to). A quiet-to-loud outro a la grunge leads us into “Ms. California”. Trifilio dishes out all the envious angst a midwesterner might ideally have over someone from the Golden State, all through the use, ironically, of a chorus that should make any indie songwriter from Los Angeles green. It’s the kind of singalong chorus that hits all the sweet-spots for this melody-addicted reviewer, albeit couching a very common and tropey subject. Towards the second half of the album is a sprinkling of more diverse dynamics. “Colorblind” pulls a book from the Hop Along book of balancing an emo-punk flavour with a funky, almost danceable groove, and “Racetrack” keeps the mood of the music in pace with the mood of the lyrics, slowing things down and trading the four-piece rock band for a lone electric piano before the garage pop comes back twice more to close off the album.

This album is certainly nothing groundbreaking, nor even all that dynamic, but like Charly Bliss’s Guppy before it, it fulfills its promise of delivering a wonderful debut LP from an artist that had years ago announced their arrival through a string of online EPs and singles. It may lack variance specifically in lyrical subject matter, but it still speaks to very real feelings and insecurities. And as long as we have hearts for someone to break and pillows to cry in (and ice-cream to cry over), having those insecurities voiced back at us through a noisy wave of guitars and sun-kissed tunes will always be welcome.

7.1 (Stand-Out)

Release date: February 14, 2020

Label: Mom+Pop

Review: Never Not Together by Nada Surf

FFO: Superchunk, Teenage Fanclub, The Rentals

Compared to other 1990s one-hit wonders, Nada Surf’s career trajectory has been an interesting one. They came in big in the summer of 1996 with their Ric Ocasek-produced MTV hit “Popular,” an acerbic song with a big chorus that found the New York City trio (now a four-piece) raking in a good bit of money for their major-label, Elektra. The song’s success was ultimately at the expense of their sophomore album, 1998’s The Proximity Effect, which, despite having enough palatable Replacements-lite power-pop cuts in hindsight, did not contain a track that scratched Elektra’s itch for another college radio hit. The label’s nixing of the band opened the door for a few years of day jobs and, eventually, Barsuk Records, home to indie up-and-comers like Death Cab For Cutie and Rilo Kiley. Starting with 2002’s exceptional Let Go, things have been fairly consistent for the band. Their sound developed in a direction away from the caustic, feedback-drunk irony that was the calling-card of 1990s rock into sincere, lush, jangly pop music, a sound which they have more or less stuck with since.

In that regard, their latest album Never Not Together is not entirely different from anything they’ve released in the past 15 years; it is not a massive stylistic jump or sonic experiment, nor a defining opus from a band that has been at it for 25 years. Certain lyrical adjustments aside, it could have been released in the place of Let Go and fit in quite nicely in the milieu of 2002. Nada Surf’s gift has never laid in sonic excursions, but in tightening their craft as songwriters, performers of rich power-pop that matures with the band and their audience. Never Not Together triumphs in that area in spades, giving us an album that is somehow both their most compact and their most full-bodied collection of songs in a good while.

The opening track, and first single, “So Much Love,” fades in with pretty acoustic guitars and a sprinkle of piano; this sweet, delicate pop rock track is somewhat par for the course for Nada Surf at this point, and begins the album nicely with a safe air of familiarity before taking off with “Come Get Me,” a good dash of floaty jangle pop a la Jayhawks, interspersed with lines of moog synth that plays like something from Summerteeth-era Wilco. “Just Wait” finds its infectiousness in a more straightforward, hooky fashion, almost fitted perfectly for radio with its four-chord opening over swelling keyboard and strings. Despite being the most simple, straightforward track on the album, “Just Wait” also feels like the turning point on the album, as the tracks that fill the second half are filled with a wider variance in arrangement and style. “Something I Should Do” is an upbeat rocker that employs spoken word in a way that might be enough to hook those who are looking for another “Popular”; what’s missing is the caustic tone, as Matthew Caws says “And we have to hold onto that hippie point harder/Empathy is good, lack of empathy is bad,” going for the post-Elektra sincerity he has taken to. “Looking For You” opens with a children’s choir that seems to be singing about insomnia before working itself towards a fantastic build with the hopeful message that “what you’re looking for’s looking for you, too.”

The strongest moment on the album comes with “Mathilda”, a 6 minute track that is almost broken down in 3 different suites. “They used to call me Mathilda,” Caws sings over a simple folksy melody. “My mama kept my hair long. I was more pretty than handsome, and I was not very strong.” This exploration of self-hatred learned from societal standards forays from reverb-washed arpeggio to overdriven power chords before settling into a Paul Simonesque folk-pop outro movement. “There’s a special hell that we build for ourselves, and it’s handed down in homes and playgrounds,” he sings. Within most of the lyricism lies this desire to love others, a sort of humanistic vision of neighbourliness. Nada Surf have always taken a more direct approach to lyricism whether that be in the overt sarcasm of “Popular,” the vitriolic damnation of toxic masculinity in “Mothers Day,” or the wistful longing of “Inside Of Love.” Caws and company channel this more towards sharing wisdom, altruism and acceptance in these woefully, absurdly divisive times. People looking for more extended metaphors, witty wordplay or crypticism may want to wait for the next Stephen Malkmus & the Jicks album. Otherwise, the marriage of honesty and innocence is refreshing in its own way.

Seeing Nada Surf in concert these days, you’ll never see them wince when they play “Popular” the way Radiohead might when dusting off “Creep”. There is no desire from the band to divorce themselves from their novice work. But while other 90s one-hit wonders may also attempt to recreate their biggest hits, Nada Surf continues to strive to mature; not through sweeping experiments, but through small steps towards crafting perfect songs. Never Not Together has the feeling of meeting up with an old friend over coffee. There is always that familiarity that doesn’t preclude the growth from being noticed. And in a world that seems to get noisier as time goes on, that might be the kind of detoxing we’ve been looking for.

7.6 (Stand-Out)

Released: February 7, 2020

Label: Barsuk Records