Community, Solidarity, and Good Fucking Music: Liberation Weekend Recap

All photos by Taylor Grimes

Any music festival that starts with a wall of death and a band smashing a guitar is cool as fuck in my book. Any festival where the lineup is comprised of mostly trans and queer musicians is powerful and inspiring. Any festival where the proceeds are going to a good cause and the event revolves around more than just getting shit-faced with your friends while loud music plays… well, that’s about as radical an act you can take part in as a music fan. 

Liberation Weekend is a brand new music festival in Washington, D.C., billed as “two days of music and arts for trans liberty.” The festival was organized by punk band Ekko Astral and trans rights advocacy collective Gender Liberation Movement. The festival began as a kernel of an idea that frontwoman Jael Holzman had in the wake of last year’s election and materialized as a sort of Pitchfork Fest for trans rights, with all proceeds going to the Gender Liberation Movement. Featuring a knockout lineup of Certified Swim Favorites™ like Home Is Where, Greg Freeman, Bartees Strange, and Pop Music Fever Dream, the fest took place across two days on Friday, May 30th and Saturday, May 31st at famed D.C. venue Black Cat with afters at the tri-level DC9 Nightclub. 

Long story short, Liberation Weekend was two days of incredible music, infectious energy, and communal support. I was on-site (alongside esteemed member of the Swim Team, Caro Alt) from start to finish, taking in a collective 20 hours of music, 22 different sets, and an infinite number of fits, smiling faces, and jumbo slices. We captured at least a little bit of every set on Instagram, preserved forever as a Highlight for your viewing pleasure, but also nabbed some pics on our trusty digi cam. Read on to see what the inaugural version of the festival was like.


Day 0: Solid State Books presents Niko Stratis' "The Dad Rock That Made Me A Woman"

On Thursday, May 29th, before a single note of music was played, Black Cat hosted a reading and Q&A with Niko Stratis that served something of an unofficial kickoff to Liberation Weekend. Stratis’ recently released book, The Dad Rock That Made Me A Woman, is one of my favorites that I’ve read in a long while and felt so immediately revelatory that a handful of the Swim Team writers decided to start a book club just so we could all talk about it. 

An absolute masterwork in music writing, the book is a memoir-in-essays on transness, labor, music, and self-realization. Each chapter of the book is centered around a specific “dad rock” song, with Niko using songs by Wilco, The Replacements, Sheryl Crow, and more as jumping-off points to discuss transitioning and her eventual journey to sobriety. Throughout the book, I found myself awestruck by how well Stratis jumps back and forth between more traditional music writing and vivid personal stories, often dovetailing the two with an energy that enraptured and inspired me.

After Niko read a bit from her essay about The Wallflowers’ “One Headlight,” she and emcee Rax King (a D.C. local) played a round of “Dad Rock or Not,” which is precisely what it sounds like, as the pair ran through a series of bands for Stratis to determine whether they classify as dad rock or not. This laddered up to a key point within the book outlining the difference between a “father” and a “dad,” with Niko ultimately surmising that “A dad is somebody you remember.”

The night’s discussions also included a tangent on chips and bagels, thoughts on identity through labor, a condemnation of “coolness,” and advice from Niko that “if you’re going to get tattoos, some of them have to be stupid.” Stratis also had some trenchant analogies about how coming out as trans doesn’t fix everything, explaining it as being more like a circuit breaker where nothing’s labeled. On some level, it’s nice to have a fresh start, but you still have to put in the work to figure out what everything does and who you are trying to be. My favorite quote of the night came when Niko was discussing how to discover new music and said, “If you’re ever at a record store and there’s a guy working there who looks too stoned to be alive, ask him what he’s listening to, ‘cause it’s gonna be good.”


Day 1: Emo Music, Smashed Guitars, and a Flood Warning

It’s a muggy Friday in DC, and I arrive at Black Cat an hour before doors to bask in the pre-show calm. The lights are low, and the black and white tile floor is already cast in swirling green laser lights. To the left is a bar hawking a combo of whiskey and Narragansett Lager; to the right is a bank of pinball machines ranging from licensed tables like The Big Lebowski and Johnny Mnemonic to classics like Centaur and The Machine: Bride of Pin-Bot. Also to the right were tables for the Gender Liberation Movement, Transa, and the Trans Music Archive.

Before the day began in earnest, Ekko Astral frontwoman Jael Holzman took the stage to introduce the festival and explain its inception. “Months ago, we had a dream to raise money for trans people instead of against them,” she explained to applause from the already half-full room. Holzman went on to introduce the first band of the first-ever Liberation Weekend…

Pop Music Fever Dream

A brilliantly chaotic no-wave band from Brooklyn, Pop Music Fever Dream kicked off Liberation Weekend with lamentations and bad vibes in the best possible way. Guitarist and lead singer Tim Seeberger wailed into the mic as bassist Carmen Castillo glared into the crowd, the attendees already throwing themselves into each other, an instant reminder that, after all, D.C.’s hardcore scene helped invent slam dancing. The fact that there was moshing for their first song signaled a strong start to the proceedings. At one point, Seeberger unfurled the mic cable and wandered to the back of the room, parting the crowd for a wall of death. “The fight doesn’t stop tonight, but i  in t’s fun to celebrate,” they explained in between songs. After 30 minutes of primal howls crawling around the stage, PMFD ended the set by smashing a guitar, with shards of the sunburst Jaguar flying into the rapt audience. Helluva way to start things off.  Read Lillian Webber’s interview with Pop Music Fever Dream here

Greg Freeman 

Next up was Greg Freeman, a Vermont-based alt-country indie rocker whose 2022 debut, I Looked Out, has been a staple of my musical diet over the last few years. Freeman was playing a solo set, just him, a guitar, and a harmonica, giving effortless folk hero energy as he played through hits from his first LP as well as his upcoming sophomore effort, Burnover. Earlier that same day, he released “Curtain,” a piano-packed barroom brawler that the audience was lucky enough to see in a raw, stripped-down form. Singing through clenched teeth, songs like “Come and Change My Body” took on a feeling of renewed meaning in a room full of people expressing their gender in a genuine and free way. Read Taylor’s write-up of “Curtains” here

Pretty Bitter

After the no-wave freakout of PMFD and the earnest folk stylings of Greg Freeman, D.C.’s own Pretty Bitter swept to the stage, bringing big dance party energy. Running through older material as well as songs from their upcoming Tiny Engines debut, Pleaser, the five-piece strutted their stuff with confidence and momentum that got the crowd grooving in turn. Frontperson Mel Bleker commandeered the mic while Kira Campbell shredded guitar solos and Ekko Astral’s Miri Tyler and Liam Hughes held down the bass and synth, respectively. Behind them, drummer Jason Haze battered his kit, twirled his sticks, and stood up to hammer his loudest solos. To quote my friend Jacqueline Codiga, “The drummer doesn’t have one song where he needs to be doing all that, but I’m glad he is.” The whole set felt like dancing around your room on a random weeknight after finding out your crush likes you back. Luckily, we only have to wait till July to hear the band’s sophomore album. 

The Ophelias 

Not to say the bands before this weren’t getting fits off, but when The Ophelias took the stage in floor-length floral dresses, white platform heels, and long, flowing hair, it was clear a new bar had been set. Reveling in the beauty of their recently released Spring Grove, the Cincy five-piece enraptured the crowd with a set of lush, violin-framed indie rock. Addressing the world at large, then the thrust of the festival, lead vocalist Spencer Peppet laid out, “This shit sucks… but this is cool,” which was met with applause from the ravenous audience. 

Pinkshift

I’ve been lucky enough to catch Pinkshift a couple of times over the last few years, and each time, I swear they get faster, tighter, and even more ferocious than the last. The Baltimore punk band brought immediate anger and urgency to their almost-hometown set, condemning white supremacy before ripping into “ONE NATION,” a song that got the entire front of the room jumping. Leader singer Ashrita Kumar is a force of nature, thrashing across the stage while their voice vaults from heavy growls to soaring high notes. The band and crowd fed off each other’s energy as vicious circle pits seemed to fuel the band’s bone-snapping nu-metal-esque breakdowns. Read Taylor’s write-up on Pinkshift’s breakthrough “i’m gonna tell my therapist on you” here.

Vinyl Raffle + Raquel Willis of Gender Liberation Movement

Before Night One headliners Home Is Where took the stage, Jael and Miri handed out the first batch of raffled vinyl courtesy of Topshelf Records, including the likes of Weatherday, Really From, plus some exclusive test presses. One by one, winners were called up to the stage to collect their wax, then the pair handed the stage over to Raquel Willis of Gender Liberation Movement, who had some choice words to say on the whole affair. “Even if you had a hard day, a hard week, a hard life… bitch you are here.” She went on to explain how apt this pairing is, stating, “It makes perfect sense that this festival centers around punk rock. Music and creation and punk [have] always been ours.” Willis continued with inspiring vamping about how we have to show up for everybody, shouting out the queer freaks and the gender fuckers. She ended on a simple note, stating to the packed crowd, “We deserve liberation forever.”

Home Is Where

In the months leading up to Liberation Weekend, there was one band everyone in D.C. was talking about. Conversations about tickets and lineups circled around one thing — “I mean, Home is Where is headlining.” When the Floridian emo group dropped I Became Birds in 2021, the album was an immediate shock to the system–rickety, electrifying, and invigorating for its entire 19-minute runtime. Two years later, the group followed it up with the even more full-throated the whaler, a tense, loving, and grotesque record about getting used to things getting worse. This year, the group pushed out even further with Hunting Season, a country-fried take on their sound that doubles as a love letter to their home state after members were forced to relocate in the wake of increasingly aggressive anti-trans legislation. Read Wes Cochran’s review of Hunting Season here.

Donning Dylan-like sunglasses and rocking the second harmonica of the night, lead singer Bea MacDonald explained these stakes outright to the packed audience, “Tilley and I had to leave Florida, and we’re homesick.” The group played through high points of their recent LP, including “migration patterns,” “milk & diesel,” and “shenandoah,” all of which were met with a thrashing crowd that emphatically screamed along to every word. I felt second-hand euphoria hearing “Oh, what a strange salvation / bong water transubstantiation” live. In one of the funnier bits of stage patter, Bea introed, “This might be the closest to the Capitol Building that you’re allowed to sing these words” before throwing to “the scientific classification of stingrays.”

Upon completing their set, the crowd was still ravenous for more, spurring a genuine encore from the group that saw Bea and Tilley take the stage, just the two of them, for a stripped-down rendition of “roll tide” off Hunting Season. It was a joyous way to end the first leg of the day, but not the whole day, because there were still afters, so off to DC9 we went.

Interstitial Migration

Situationally, Black Cat sits in the middle of 14th Street, a relic of a different time in D.C.’s music geography that’s now locked in by a couple of fratty bars, a beer garden that doesn’t sell hard ciders, and a Brooklinen. However, up five blocks and through a couple of neighborhoods, DC9 stands in a long line of bars and clubs, catty corner to the historic 9:30 Club and its subsidiary, The Atlantis. Groups of festival-goers walked on the red brick sidewalks from one venue to the next as the sky threatened to open again. Everyone was replaying what happened during Home is Where’s whirlwind set while keeping up a brisk pace to make it to Perennial.
– Caro Alt

Perennial

Because Home Is Where went a little over and it took a while to say goodbye to all our friends at Black Cat, we showed up a few songs into Perennial’s set, but the Connecticut modernist punk trio had already whipped the room into a frenzy. We walked in during the raucous “Up-tight,” which the group blows out into a call-and-response jam, walking into the crowd as vocalists Chelsey and Chad alternate lyrics “in the middle of the night / oh yeah, alright, up-tight.” The trio worked the refrain down to a whisper, and the crowd was more than happy to oblige, chanting along to every word until the group brought the guitars back out and turned things into an all-out punk party. Dressed in matching horizontal striped shirts, Perennial’s set was contagious and pure rock and fuckin’ roll.

ZORA

Introduced as “the transsexual menace,” ZORA took the stage as an indietronica duo with live drums and braggadocious hip-hop bars. After shouting out her hometown of Minneapolis, Minnesota, ZORA led a chant of “Fuck Target” after the company rolled back its DEI initiatives earlier this year and pulled their support for local pride events. Playing plenty of songs off her recent Get Better Records releases Z D A Y and BELLAdonna, ZORA offered a fun palate cleanser to the otherwise rock-heavy aftershow. 

Um, Jennifer?

I was lucky enough to catch Um, Jennifer? a week prior, playing The Mercury Lounge with Eph See and Deadbeat Girl, so I was fortunate in that I knew what to expect. That is to say, a triumphant set of rock music helmed by Eli Scarpati and Fig Regan, who playfully trade deliveries between vibrant shades of indie rock. While Eli brings a buoyant, classic rock approach to his songs, Fig impresses with slightly headier songwriting that at times feels like a mix between Black Country, New Road and under-appreciated defunct Detroit prog-punk band Mover Shaker. Together, the pair is backed by Grayson Ellis (of Twinflame) on drums and Carmen Castillo (of Pop Music Fever Dream) on bass. Together, the four churned out effortlessly charismatic pop-rock bangers to a ravenous 1 am crowd.

With a recently released self-titled full-length behind them, the group rocked through a set of songs that spoke directly to transition and gender dysphoria/euphoria. Highlights included the Blondie-coded “Went On T” and “Old Grimes,” a surfy number with a soaring chorus about listening to Grimes before she did all that other stuff. There were times when Eli was flying across the stage, jumping from the bass drum, shirtless, performing with such zeal that I was reminded of a young Bruce Springsteen. Even the on-album interlude “Jennifer’s Dungeon” took on a cathartic new life when performed live, with the entire crowd finding release in the repeated wail of “I shaved my face for you, baby!” The night ended with “Cut Me Open,” a jumpy rocker that has been one of my favorite songs of the year for two years running. Read Brad Walker’s review of The Girl Class EP here.


Interlude: Merch Booths, Organizing, and Wishlists

By the time we emerged from DC9 a little after 2 in the morning, we were met with an absolute deluge of rain. We checked the weather app to learn that D.C. was experiencing both a flood and a tornado warning, almost as if Mother Nature was just as fired up from the eight hours of music we had just taken in. We ran through the streets and piled into a Lyft back to our digs in Adams Morgan, then proceeded to saty up until 4 am, wired from the day’s events.

This midpoint seems like a good spot to show off some of the beautiful merch and organizations that were tabling the fest. There was a little something for everyone: cool shirts and CDs, smut and stickers, zines, narcan, test strips, and DIY hormone guides, the sense of community stemming from the fest was reflected even in these booths.

While I’m breaking timeline chronology, I’d also like to use this space to discuss my personal wishlist for a potential second iteration of Liberation Weekend. First off, my mind goes to Jeff Rosenstock and PUP, two bands that Ekko is about to tour with this fall that seem like prime headliner suspects for an event like this. I also think Mannequin Pussy and Lambrini Girls would bring a hard-nosed punk edge that the festival seems to bend toward. Because I’m a Portland Boy, I also have to rep Alien Boy, whose loud-ass guitar rock tackles something universal in the queer experience. Just to round things out with some emo music, I think Snowing, Ogbert The Nerd, Swiss Army Wife, or See Through Person could all provide prime mid-day sets that would keep the energy high. Okay, enough daydreaming, back to reality. 


Day 2: Local Legends, TRANSA Showcase, and Ekko Fucking Astral

Miri Tyler

Day two of Liberation Weekend started with Miri Tyler kicking off the Locals set at DC9. You can’t talk about DIY music in D.C. without bringing up Miri Tyler. Not only did she play in three sets across the 22-set weekend (all different instruments, I may add: bass for Pretty Bitter, drums for Ekko Astral, and guitar/vocals for her own set), but outside of the festival, you can find her at practically every gig and show. The first time I saw Tyler wasn’t actually onstage, but opening the mosh pit at a Bacchae show several years back – her love of music and D.C. is infectious, and the crowd she was playing to at 2:30 pm was giving her that love right back.

Sonically, Tyler’s project is jangly and a bit groovy – the song “Land of the Loaded Gun” boasts a phenomenal bassline, held down by Kira Campbell, which acts as the song’s center of gravity, much like a Yo La Tengo song. During the set, the trio played a new song with a fucked-up groove, then transitioned into an older track with more of an emo beat. Tyler wears her heart on her sleeve, and that earnestness is what this festival thrives on.
– Caro Alt

Fun aside. Just a short beat after Miri’s set ended, one of the vendors from the back of DC9 shouted, “If anyone wants gay porn, I have some!” Then amending their proclamation with “Trans porn!” What a beautiful festival. 

Berra

I always find it kind of embarrassing when there’s a local act I haven’t seen three times yet, let alone haven’t seen once, but I had never seen Berra live until this weekend. Under the blue lights of DC9’s corner-set stage, Berra’s Roba Djalleta stood in the spotlight and began her dreamy set. The weekend happened to line up with the release of the band’s latest EP, Lover’s Virginia, which came out the previous Friday, meaning there was a plethora to celebrate. The crowd bounced along to poppier songs like “Guys” and swayed to misty tracks like “For Not You.” Djalleta’s velvety voice and the shiny band oscillated between the emo stylings of the Midwest and bedroom pop contemporaries like Beach Bunny. All together, it was a starry set, and I hope to catch Berra again soon. If any D.C. bookers are reading this, book Berra.
– Caro Alt

Massie

Right as Massie kicked their set off with an Interpol-ass riff, Kira Campbell came over my shoulder and whispered, “This band is about to melt faces,” and damn was she right. You know in cartoons when a band plays so loud that the amps start smoking and the volume dial pops off? That’s Massie. The group is a thrashy power-pop project shared between guitarist Emily Yaremchuk and drummer Sam Collings. Collings’ drums sit at the heartbeat of the band, thumping through Yaremchuk’s feedback and fuzz. Sonically, they lean into a bit of gaze and get a little Gladie. No matter what or where I see them – a library, a basketball game, or at DC9 – they always feel like someone lit a firework and threw it into the air.
– Caro Alt

Pinky Lemon

You can’t help but feel electric when Pinky Lemon performs. About as synonymous with The D.C. DIY Sound as anyone can get, Pinky Lemon normally sprawls across the stage with five members; however, for this set, they opted for a stripped-down version of their synthgaze. The last time I saw Pinky Lemon live, they were participating in a tournament called Mosh Madness, in which local bands soundtracked a series of 3-on-3 basketball games made up of local musicians. Their ominous yet dancy sound reverberated around the auditorium then as it did at DC9. While the setting was incredibly different for Liberation Weekend, the performance was just as in-your-face; they even covered “Love Buzz” with Miri Tyler. This set was definitely Pinky Heaven, not Hell.
– Caro Alt

Faith/Void

Back at Black Cat, I walked into Faith/Void’s set right as the NY rock trio were ripping into a cover of Mclusky’s “Day Of The Deadringers,” which brought me back to life. Their whole set was proper shouty down-and-dirty punk goodness with an undercurrent of jilted Gen X energy. The band’s bio on Instagram reads, “suckin dongs and smokin bongs,” and I’m happy to report that’s the exact kind of energy you can expect from a Faith/Void set. 

Big Girl

After reading Katie’s write-up on Big Girl earlier this year, I thought I knew what to expect from the red-hued indie rockers, but turns out taking in this band’s show firsthand is something else entirely. The set began with all four members putting their hands together, then bandleader Kaitlin Pelkey proceeded to lie on the ground and writhe, slowly coming to life as the rest of the band gradually cranked up a swell of noise. Dressed in red tights and a sheer red top wrapped in a protective suit jacket, Pelkey is the ideal frontperson, equal parts iconic, theatrical, intimidating, and captivating. After shredding for one song as a four-piece, Pelkey shed their guitar and began to strut the stage, vamping, tambourine in hand while promising that select members of the audience were going to get that “biiiiiiig promotion,” lulling us in with the promise of “healthcare” and “everything we ever wanted.” The group proceeded to play through a selection of songs off their recently released DYE EP, and within minutes of their set ending, I was already looking forward to the next time I would be blessed enough to catch Big Girl again. Read Katie Hayes’ profile on Big Girl here.

Ted Leo 

Ted Leo is a staple in D.C. music in the same way that St. Stephens is a staple of D.C. DIY venues, in the way that Smash! Records is a staple in D.C. record shops and the way that Fugazi is a staple in knowing what D.C. post-hardcore is in the first place (come on, it was gonna get mentioned at some point). Last year, Ted Leo (and his Pharmacists) took Ekko Astral on tour to celebrate the 20th anniversary of his anti-war power pop album, Shake the Sheets; now he’s returning to support the Gender Liberation Movement. While he was Pharmacist-less, he still brought the house down with his stripped-down punk songs and blood-hungry bite. If everything went according to plan, this weekend was already set to be historic for D.C. punk music, and Ted Leo’s presence tied the whole thing to the city’s storied lineage.
– Caro Alt

Editor’s Note: At this point, the battery on my camera died, so the rest of these photos are just from my iPhone, sorry.

Downtown Boys

One of the weekend’s most forceful sets, Downtown Boys brought raging punky vocals with a message to Black Cat’s stage. Led by Victoria Ruiz’s compelling, compassionate wail, the group ripped and raged through crowd favorites off Full Communism and Cost of Living, interspersing their set by reading letters from Palestinians and reminding the audience that we need to “do this collectively.” There were crowd-churning two-step drum beats, skank-worthy sax solos, and, in a telling move of solidarity, the mic was pointed into the crowd for the first time all weekend as fans screamed the band’s words right back to them. 

Speedy Ortiz

Kicking their set off with immediate distortion and a heavy-as-shit guitar riff, Massachusetts indie rockers Speedy Ortiz brought their indelible pop-rock tunes to Liberation Weekend in style. If The Ophelias got the superlative for Best Dressed of Day One, Speedy Ortiz had it on lock for the second day. Bandleader Sadie Dupuis was rocking a sparkly rainbow dress with a hem like confetti, singing into a bright pink and blue Fisher-Price-looking mic while playing a green guitar with a tiger-stripe pickguard. Talk about fuckin’ style. At one point, in celebration of Gemini season, Sadie invited Ted Leo and members of Downtown Boys back on stage for a round of tequila shots. To close out their set, the group played “Brace Thee” off their most recent LP, Rabbit Rabbit, and brought the house down as bassist Audrey Zee Whitesides screamed the repeating final line “I’m fine!” sounding anything but. 

After Speedy Ortiz’s set, it was time for the Transa Showcase featuring artists from last year’s staggering TRANS​A compilation. Organized by the music production non-profit Red Hot, the compilation is an eight-part spiritual journey across 46 songs that brings together over 100 artists with a focus on some of the most daring, imaginative, and exciting trans and non-binary musicians working today. 

Bartees Strange

While he’s mostly known for sturdy and eclectic indie rock, Bartees Strange’s solo set found the artist with nothing more than an acoustic guitar and a setlist written on his hand. It was a more solemn affair than the day had been up to this point; it only took a couple of songs for Bartees to transfix the entire room with his killer voice. He played through heaters like “Sober” and “Baltimore” off his recent LP but also dipped back into fan favorites like “Heavy Heart,” “Mustang,” and “Boomer.” With a tasteful amount of reverb on his guitar, the set was an absolute showcase for the breathtaking quality of his voice, even when his songs are stripped of all ornamentation and flashiness. At one point, after discussing how important it is to show up for friends, Strange remarked on the festival, “Jael hit me up about this festival, and I was like ‘yeah if you can do it,’ and look what happens when people come together and try something new.”

Asher White

Asher White was easily one of my biggest surprises of the weekend, a classic case of going in totally blind and coming out an instant fan. Part emo noodling, part indie rock dance party, Asher White is a band that truly contains multitudes. At one point, the group wound from a gentle, finger-plucked slow number to a sludgy stoner rock passage, then into a jumpy pop-punk blast, and finally slowed things down again. There were tight instrumental passages, fun vocals, and some of the best stage banter I’d heard all fest. At one point, White lobbed a softball over home plate, asking the crowd, “Anyone here transgender?” which was met with unanimous applause and cheers. At another point, she explained, “This is my first time in DC, and I think it’s skewed me because I’ve only talked to trans people.” Any band that can have this much fun on stage while rocking this hard is ace in my book. 

L'Rain

After the hometown heroics of Bartees Strange and the rambunctiously high-energy Asher White, L’Rain opted to close the weekend out on a beautiful reflection. For half an hour, L’Rain sat alone onstage, equipped with just a mic and soundboard, and mixed a drone sound using archival samples from the NYC Trans Oral History Project. The set slowed the room down and magnetically pulled people towards the stage to hear the stories over the speakers. The crowd that had been frantically moshing just minutes ago was now sitting quietly, surrounding L’Rain as she crafted a spiral of sounds, dialogue, and looped noises. Some audiences treated the set as a meditation, closing their eyes and opening themselves up to the music on a deeper level. Looking around, some groups were deep in conversation, while others were engrossed in listening or wrapped up in each other's embrace. It was a beautiful scene. 

Occasionally, L’Rain would lift the mic to her mouth just to breathe or hum lightly, adding her own element of live humanity to the soundscape. Even though I was watching most of the set from the side of the stage, it was unclear whether L’Rain was even vocalizing every time she brought the mic to her mouth. At one point, she seemed to raise the mic up and just smiled into it. Again, I couldn’t make out whether she was actively adding something new to the ambient swirl, but maybe capturing that smile in the moment was enough. 

Pure Adult

The floor of the second story of DC9 shakes. While it’s not noticeable for every set, if the crowd starts moving fast enough, the whole room will start to move too. Over the years, I’ve typically felt the shake towards the end of the night in the final thrashes of the crowd as artists play their biggest hits. Pure Adult’s unruly set got the floor swaying in seconds. The room’s pink and blue lights have shifted to a sinister red as the night rapidly turned into a sweaty, jumpy moshfest. Frontman Jeremy Snyder seemed to take infinite glee in this reception, conducting the crowd like a demonic Paul Giamatti – complete with a grey mop of hair, beautiful stache, and a sport jacket – as he gesticulated, fist-pumped, and shouted repetitions into the crowd. Occasionally, he’d pass vocal duty off to keyboardist Bianca Abarca, who would throw the crowd into an even further rage with pit-spurring hardcore vocals. Behind them, the rhythm section was held together with a tribal thrumming, always providing a reliable groove for the group to fall back on. The entire set was hedonistic and hammy, with many beautiful moments where the entire crowd was moving as one, yelping in joy. The stage was set for Ekko Astral. 

Ekko Astral & Friends

On the ground, the topic of Ekko Astral’s set was hotly discussed throughout the weekend. There were rumors about special guests, predictions for the set list, and anecdotes about the last time people had seen the band. The countdown had been on since the moment the festival was announced. 

The final seconds ticked down, and Ekko Astral emerged from the crowd–frontwoman Jael Holzman on bass, Liam Hughes plugging in his guitar, and Miri Tyler settling behind the drums. There was a deep breath, and then the band launched their set into orbit with a cover of SOPHIE’s “JUST LIKE WE NEVER SAID GOODBYE.”

The pandemic is often cited by D.C. locals as a changing point in the city’s rock scene. Bands broke up, venues closed, and people left. When shows started again, there was a kind of rebirth and a longing for closeness. This is where Ekko Astral comes in. For years, Ekko was kind of D.C.’s best-kept secret: a band with a cult following and wild live shows that people always wanted to see again. Following the release of pink balloons last year, D.C.’s music community was finally blown open, with Ekko at the helm. Read Lillian Weber’s review of pink balloons here.

No moment in their set showcases this momentum more than their second song of the night, “TRANSDEMIC, BABY,” off their EP Quartz, which they performed with Sophie Fisher, a local activist. At this point, the crowd was well into hours of slamming into each other, but Jael, aware of the band’s rowdy live shows and even rowdier fanbase (dubbed the Mascara Moshpit), took a moment to remind everyone in the packed room to protect each other and pick people up if they fall. Once the crowd agreed, the band tore into “baethoven” and “uwu type beat,” with the audience singing the entire first verse of baethoven.

While the rock music is cool, support for others was the true theme of the set — a celebration of the profound love for their community that Ekko Astral feels. This is where the fun really begins: the special guest-packed “Oops! All Covers” set. With each song, Jael announced a new guest, shared a story about how they contributed to the festival, and dove into perfect covers of beloved songs, both new and old. Maggie from Tetchy and Em Rainey joined the stage for a room-leveling rendition of Mannequin Pussy’s “Loud Bark.” Tilley Kormony from Home is Where jumped on the guitar for Hanny Ramadan from Latchkey Kids’ roaring covers of “Dancing In The Dark” and “Constant Headache.” After a long “Jo, Jo, Jo, Jo” chant from the crowd, fest organizer Jo Morgan hopped on stage for a version of “Helter Skelter,” complete with Miri yelling, “I GOT BLISTERS ON MY FINGERS!” And finally, Ted Leo and Roba Djalleta reappeared for a hypnotic cover of “Dreams” by Fleetwood Mac.

From there, Ekko debuted a couple of goosebump-inducing new songs, along with a rousing version of “On Brand” featuring Kait from Big Girl and a fittingly vitriolic chant of “FUCK ELON MUSK. They brought the temperature back down with a cover of Yeah Yeah Yeah’s “Maps,” then Mel from Pretty Bitter tagged in for a joyous version of Metric’s “Combat Baby.”

As if all this wasn’t enough, the set also included a surprise appearance from Bad Moves, who were introduced as “The Beatles of D.C.” Members David Combs and Katie Park joined Ekko onstage for “Hallelujah,” which the band introduced as a song about “how the state has no place policing gender identity.” They followed up with “Cool Generator,” and man, if you haven’t heard a crowd sing along to “Cool Generator,” you’re missing out. And I mean missing out. Bad Moves is ending this summer.

The night and festival ended in a fittingly cataclysmic way, with “i90,” the seismic slow-burn closer from pink balloons. The group leaned into the riff, cranking the distortion and playing it sludgy as fuck, all climaxing with a molten guitar solo from Liam. The set ended with Liam, Mel, Jo, and Miri arm-in-arm as Jael sang the song’s final lines, surrounded by friends and smiling. Joy. 

Liberation Forever

When all was said and done, the first-ever Liberation Weekend left me astonished, inspired, hopeful, and energized. On a practical level, I was amazed by how efficiently everything ran, both at Black Cat and with two venues at play. On a more existential level, it felt affirming to be in such a supportive space where people were free to be their authentic selves and make it crystal-fucking-clear what they stand for. This support manifested in everything from pit etiquette and resources at the merch tables to explicit calls for trans liberation in the face of a government that is actively working against the existence of the people filling this venue and standing on its stage. To that end, the band has since announced that Liberation Weekend raised over $30,000 (and counting), proving that all of this energy and effort and organization was more than worth it.

Even as I walked around Black Cat, taking notes and snapping pictures, the energy in the room was palpable. Everyone was happy to be there, surrounded by community and taking in art made by people that reflected something about their own humanity. As an outsider to the D.C. scene, I felt welcomed, as if some of the transitive power of this event had rubbed off on me, and I know I’m not alone. I spoke with at least a few crowd members who remarked that they were excited to go home and make music, work on film or art projects, and troll Facebook Marketplace for a used pedal steel guitar. Part of that is just what it feels like to attend a good music festival, but also a testament to the type of space that Liberation Weekend cultivated. 

At one point, I found myself talking to Nikolai Mather, a DJ, reporter, and man-about-town who had driven up from North Carolina with another friend just for the festival. One of the first things he remarked to me was, “I’d never seen an all-trans pit before.” I remembered observing a similar thing early on in Day One as I sat perched off to the side, sipping my beer, jotting notes, and taking in the crowd as everyone wrapped themselves up in Pop Music Fever Dream’s performance. The crowd of mostly trans and queer people was unlike any music festival I’ve ever been a part of, and that’s what makes Liberation Weekend so fucking cool. This was a fest by trans and queer people for trans and queer people in support of trans and queer people. It’s a reminder that there are more of us than them and that community is salvation.

In that same conversation with Nikolai, he casually dropped this gem when talking about trans people creating art, “It’s always been the heart of who we are. Art is the thing that allows us to create ourselves. You have to create something to prove them wrong.” I’ll be damned if I couldn’t say it better than that.

Bartees Strange – Farm to Table | Album Review

I’ve never been as excited to see the opener for one of my favorite bands as I was when I saw Bartees Strange supporting Car Seat Headrest. I showed up early enough to hear the blaring horns of “Heavy Heart” during soundcheck, the explosiveness of Farm To Table’s fiery, brass-backed lead single palpable even through Brooklyn Steel’s cinder block walls. I loved “Heavy Heart” just as much then, but now having heard it in the context of his sophomore album, it’s proven to be the perfect opener for a record that begs the question: once our blessings finally come, how should we receive them? 

The couplet that opens the song (and the album itself)-- “there’s reasons for heavy hearts/this past year I thought I was broken” –lets us in on the often destabilizing feeling of getting a long-awaited win after a series of losses. Though Strange takes pride in his accomplishments, he’s wary that such acclaim could compromise his values or make him lose sight of what’s been motivating him in the first place:

I never want to miss you this bad
I never want to run out like that
Sometimes I feel just like my dad, rushing around
I never saw the God in that
Why work so hard if you can’t fall back?
Then I remember I rely too much upon my heavy heart

Strange’s path to success has been a long and unconventional one, to say the least. Born Bartees Cox Jr. in Ipswich, England, the eldest son of an Air Force engineer father and an opera singer mother, he had a transient, international childhood before settling in Mustang, Oklahoma at age 12. Much of his early musical education came in the form of church choir performances and piano and vocal lessons from his mom. During high school and his first year of college, he played football and had hopes of making it to the NFL, but soon realized that it wasn’t a viable enough option, and that the exploitation and lack of support he experienced as a Black student-athlete weren’t worth the risk. After transferring schools and getting his degree from Oklahoma University, he moved to Washington DC to work as an FCC press secretary under the Obama administration. Following this position, he bounced between DC and Brooklyn, producing for various artists, playing in the post-hardcore band Stay Inside, and releasing two solo EPs– a 2017 collection of folk songs titled Magic Boy under the name Bartees & the Strange Fruit, and 2020’s Say Goodbye To Pretty Boy in which he covered five songs by The National, a band he cites as one of his biggest influences (and who he’ll be supporting on an upcoming tour). Just months after releasing SGTBP, he dropped his breakout debut album, Live Forever, a transformative anti-genre behemoth that skyrocketed him to indie fame. 

Flash forward to late 2021, and it seemed like all the big-name indie rock artists were lining up to take Strange on tour. He sounded almost timid introducing himself to the crowd when I saw him open for Car Seat Headrest at their 3-night Brooklyn Steel run in March, but when he launched into a rousing performance of “Mustang,” it was as though a switch had flipped. Whatever shyness I’d seen moments earlier melted away entirely as he tore into the Live Forever single with the force of the titular horses that gallop through the track’s second verse– “I just wait for my horses now.” It’s been a slow climb, and he’s been patient, but Strange isn’t waiting anymore. Everything he’s been working toward is here for the taking. As brilliant as he was as a first act, and as deserving as he is of all the exposure he’s gotten from supporting more established artists, I saw someone who’d outgrown his indie rock opener status. His sound felt too big. His name was worthy of stadium marquees and the largest font on festival flyers. I have very little doubt that the next time I see Strange, he’ll be the one headlining. He’s more than ready for it, and Farm To Table proves that a million times over. 

It’s an album that feels present in every sense of the word, despite its watchful eye on the past. Many of these songs see Strange reflecting on his upbringing, his current perspective both illuminated and disrupted by physical and temporal distance from childhood. On the quiet, acoustic closer “Hennessy,” he examines the racist stereotypes that he was inundated with during his formative years in Mustang, Oklahoma, a city whose near-90% white population often made Strange– a Black kid who’d spent his early years living all over the world –feel like an outsider. The line “sometimes I don’t feel like I’m the man” is both a humble admission of self-doubt and a solemn contrast from the opening bars of his 2020 breakout single “Boomer,” in which he boasts, “aye bruh, aye bruh, aye bruh/look I’m the man.” Before launching into a dissolving, multilayered outro, Strange attempts to find solace through love and community: “Hold you in my arms, remind you that you’re gold/Can’t feel the pain if I’m holding onto you.” He doesn’t sound entirely sure of himself but nonetheless clings to whatever semblance of hope he has left.

Black Gold” and “Tours” also focus on Strange’s childhood memories. On the former, he alternates from a gravelly baritone to a shimmering falsetto as he attempts to reconcile past mistakes with current wisdom:

I was way too rough with how I left my town
Now it’s big city lights for a country mouse
I can recall waiting for you
I feel you now, with every move

The lyrics are interspersed with what sounds like audio from a home video, fuzzy recordings of people singing and chattering over a delicate string arrangement that evokes the flickering of fireflies on a summer evening.

On “Tours,” Strange draws thematic parallels between the demands of his father’s military job and those of his current-day career as a touring musician. Much like in “Heavy Heart,” he finds himself considering the toll his father’s distance took on his family and suggesting that his own tours might have similar effects on his loved ones in the present day. Throughout this reckoning, he maintains a deep sense of gratitude toward both of his parents, which comes in the form of memory preservation. The nature of memory is fragmented in and of itself, and like many of us, Strange feels obligated to retain as much as he can so as not to lose crucial chapters of his– and his family’s –personal history. He becomes his parents’ archivist, weaving their shared experiences into a musical narrative to overcome the risk of losing these precious stories. Even the ones that are painful to look back on are worth holding on to:

Wipe the tears from her face
Mom would break down once a day
Looking back, I know that she tried so hard
When I’d hide from thunder, scared that I’d wake my mother
If I were my father I’d wonder who’s checking for monsters

The childlike confusion and melancholia of “Tours” leads beautifully into “Hold The Line,” the album’s third single, dedicated to Gianna Floyd. In a statement released along with the single, Strange said that the song was inspired by “watching George Floyd’s daughter talk about the death of her father and thinking wow– what a sad introduction to Black American life for this young person.” Then-six-year-old Gianna not only experienced the unimaginable loss of her father but was also forced to grieve for an international audience. You’d see photos of her visiting the White House and video footage of her testifying for her father and think, she shouldn’t have to do this. It’s unfathomable to think of how a child might even begin to make sense of such horrendous violence– violence that, sadly, is nothing out of the ordinary. Having explored his own firsthand experiences with anti-Black racism through songwriting, Strange mourns for the Black kids whose childhoods are tainted with the same hatred. He eulogizes George Floyd– “the man with that big ol’ smile” –with grief for those that he alone cannot protect. 

Strange has an innate ability to tap into the surreal powerlessness that can make being alive right now feel so paralyzing. Alt-country banger “Escape This Circus” opens with a reference to Gil Scott-Heron’s 1970 spoken-word poem “Whitey’s On The Moon”-- just as relevant now as it was then, if not more. One percent of Americans own nearly a third of the nation’s wealth, and instead of using it to feed and house those living in poverty, they’re building cars that spontaneously combust– we call this progress. Few lyrics this year have sounded quite as timely as, “I’m in a fancy place/paid too much for the room/The clerk he says to buy some crypto/he’s got holes in his shoes.” Capitalism’s a sick game that we’re all forced to play, and almost no one wins. You can hear the exhaustion in Strange’s voice as he sings, “we’re all part of this circus/we’re all on our own horses''-- once again calling to mind the horses in 2020’s “Mustang.” He’d tossed the line “I hate America” into that track with a similar sense of resignation, beaten down by a neverending dystopian carnival whose games are rigged by design. “Escape This Circus”’s true catharsis comes in its erratic, reverb-drenched outro, with Strange wailing, “that’s why I really can’t fuck with y’all,” in a desperate attempt to pull the carousel’s emergency brake and free himself.

Back in April when Strange announced that he’d signed to 4AD for his sophomore album, he made his grand entrance to the historic London record label with “Cosigns,” a sleek and celebratory trap-rock banger in which he exercises his well-earned bragging rights. In his cleverest and cockiest bars, he shouts out the big dogs that he’s playing with, including 2/3s of Boygenius, idiosyncratic Australian rocker Courtney Barnett, Bon Iver’s Justin Vernon, new labelmates Big Thief, and 4AD founder Martin Mill:

I’m in LA, I’m with Phoebe, I’m a genius, damn
I’m in Chi-Town, I’m with Lucy, I just got the stamp
Hit up Courtney, that’s my Aussie, I already stan
I’m on FaceTime, I’m with Justin, we already friends
We already friends, we already friends
I’m on FaceTime, I’m with Justin, we already friends
I’m a thief when things get big, look Imma steal your fans
I’m with Martin in the mill, we grindin’, makin’ bread

The stunning music video directed by Pooneh Ghana shows Strange at the head of a stylishly set outdoor table (seemingly not far from the farm). As his impeccably dressed guests tear savagely into their meals at the song’s bridge, Strange takes off running and hides in a mystical, flower-covered cave. The braggadociousness that characterized the first half of the track is contrasted with an ambivalence about his newfound fame, and his ambition is once again at odds with the precariousness of success: “How to be full, it’s the hardest to know/I keep consuming, I can’t give it up/Hungry as ever, it’s never enough.” 

Listening to Farm To Table feels like watching an artist self-actualize in real-time. When Strange sings, “I was trying to be something wretched/Something I saw on TV,” on the album’s fourth and final single, “Wretched,” we see him fulfilling his own potential, becoming a version of himself that he both feared and aspired to. It’s yet another track in which he artfully folds these contradictions into catchy, danceable hooks. He’s cautious of the blessings he receives, wanting to celebrate them but still wondering if there’s a catch. 

Much like it was on Live Forever, his art is a struggle against mortality, a fleeting chance to create something that will transcend and outlive him. On “Mulholland Dr.”— a track rife with influence from longtime Strange favorites The National and TV On The Radio —he grapples with the ephemerality of both the sweet and the bitter, and of life itself, striving to make good use of the time he has:

I don’t believe in the bullshit
Of wondering when we die
I’ve seen the ending
It’s all in your face and your eyes
I’ve seen how we die
I know how to lose

If Live Forever earned Bartees Strange a seat at the titular table, Farm to Table not only sees him sitting at its head, but telling the story of how he got there. In the end, it’s Strange’s gratitude that keeps him– and his art –grounded. Everything he creates is imbued with a deep respect for his craft and for  those who’ve supported him. Even through the fear and anguish and regret, he shows his appreciation every step of the way. The (strange) fruits of his labor are served, and the rest of us are lucky enough to enjoy the bountiful harvest he’s provided. So say thanks, because it’s time to eat. 


Grace Robins-Somerville is a writer from Brooklyn, New York. You can find her on Instagram and Twitter at @grace_roso.

Swim Into The Sound's 15 Favorite Albums of 2020

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I don’t think anyone could have predicted how 2020 would go. Back in January, we all seemed determined to enter the new decade with a renewed sense of optimism… but that fell apart pretty quickly. Within three days, the US on the brink of war with Iran. A month in, and Australia was on fire. Three months into the year, a global pandemic sequestered us all to our homes. Midway through the summer, the pressure cooker of police brutality, racial inequality, and an ever-worsening economic reality erupted into protests, rebellion, and long-simmering (long-deserved) unrest. Cap that all off with forest fires, near-miss asteroids, murder hornets, and a demoralizing election cycle, and you’ve concocted a perfect storm of anxiety, depression, and exhaustion that made each day of 2020 feel like its own special type of hell.

This was the year of the plague. It was the year of death. It was the year that everything became unsafe for everyone. The year that half of the country came out to protest police systematically killing our black brothers and sisters in broad daylight while the other half protested bars, barbers, and Disneyland closing. It was fucked. But I’m not here to complain.

As bad as this year was for pretty much everyone, music helped keep my spirits afloat. Music has always been a creature comfort for me (as I’m sure it is for many of you reading this), and that comfort was needed this year more than ever before. It’s not like music was more important than any of those things happening out in the “real world,” but it provided a constant outlet and distraction for me when I needed it most. What I’m saying is that I know this isn’t vital to the world, but it’s vital to me.

Music is always there, ready to reflect your feelings and quell your anxieties. Music is there to vocalize the things that you cannot, affirm the way you see the world, or get you to see it from a new perspective. It’s there to support and provide a sense of ease, even years after an artist has released it into the world. It’s an outlet for emotion and a fount for creativity. As an artist, there’s nothing like releasing your creation into the world and seeing it well-met. As a listener, there’s nothing quite like discovering another group of humans out there who can sum up your thoughts and experiences succinctly over the course of an album. It’s a symbiotic relationship, and that’s something we can’t lose sight of. Music is a blessing and a resource. As humans, music is something that we need to create and something that we need to consume, and it has never been more vital than this year. 

Whether they were a distraction or a reflection, these are the 15 albums that helped me make it through one of the darkest years of my life. 


15 | Touché Amoré - Lament

Epitaph Records

Epitaph Records

Lament is an album caught in the blurry middle ground of life. What happens after the death of a loved one? How do you handle losing family members to conspiracy theories or the cult of Donald Trump? What do you reach for when you need a reminder of love? Turns out the answer to all of these questions is you hire producer Ross Robinson and create one of the best post-hardcore records of the year. Lament possesses everything you would expect from a Touché Amoré record; there are throat-shredding bellows, whiplash-inducing blast beats, and beautifully poetic sentiments that speak to a larger human truth. There are also some unexpectedly great surprises: one of the catchiest songs of the year (with a bonus Julien Baker feature nonetheless), a soul-rendering duet with Andy Hull of Manchester Orchestra, and a confessional piano ballad to wrap things up. It’s an album that looks back on life with equal parts reverence and regret. The band seemingly knows that looking back is not inherently productive, so they spend just as much time looking forward out onto the great stretch of horizon that lies before them, questioning what comes next. In a year where music, life, and pretty much everything else that we consider remotely important felt suspended in stasis, what better time to pause, reflect, and collect ourselves for what’s to come?

 

14 | Deftones - Ohms

Reprise Records

Reprise Records

Like most other Deftones albums, I have no idea what Ohms is about. Sure, I could read interviews, take in reviews, or analyze some of the lyrics, but that would take away all the fun. Also like most other Deftones albums, Ohms bears the same intoxicating mix of Chino Moreno’s piercing screams and Stephen Carpenter’s sludgy riffs. These songs sway, lumber, and envelop the listener with heavy metal perfection. At a certain point, the lyrics don’t even matter because the emotion carried in these songs speaks for itself. There’s a weight to Ohms reflected in tracks like Pompeji, Genesis, and This Link Is Dead that is simply unparalleled by any other band in the genre. Any group that makes it to nine albums is doing something right, and Deftones have stuck to their sound faithfully and completely for three decades. That alone is worthy of praise. The band’s 2020 release comes off as well-rehearsed chaos. Ohms bears the full weight of the emotional spectrum, but, as usual, Deftones somehow manage to make it look easy.

 

13 | Seahaven - Halo of Hurt

Pure Noise Records

Pure Noise Records

If Reverie Lagoon is a warm, sandy beach with light glinting off the summer water and Winter Forever is… well, winter, then Halo of Hurt is the soundtrack to a cursed late-fall. From the winding knotty basswork to the haunted, witchy lyricism, this album practically oozes spooky energy. Fittingly released in November, Halo of Hurt is a dark and menacing record that takes cues from Brand New and the alt-emo of the early 2000s but modernizes it in the most impactful way. From second one, this record creeps forward with sinister intent. The band counterbalances this abject darkness with uplifting choruses and beguiling instrumentals that offer glimpses into something lighter. It’s an intoxicating combination that transfixes me every time I put the record on. It’s haunting, stark, beautiful, and inward. If it takes the band seven years between releases to turn out an album of this quality, then I say take as much time as you need. 

 

12 | Sinai Vessel - Ground Aswim

Self-released

Self-released

Whenever I write a review for an album, I always find it hard to cover again in the context of an Album of the Year list. First off, I feel like I’ve already said everything I need to on the topic; reviews are written to be comprehensive and delve into every aspect of an album. Second, how do I take an 800+ word analysis and synthesize it down to a single paragraph? Turns out it’s easy with Sinai Vessel’s sophomore album. The sentiment of my review still stands; Ground Aswim remains a beautiful, careful, meditative listen that points its listener towards the refuge of a calmer life, yet it’s also an album that evolves with you over time. 

From the whisper-quiet remorse of the opening track to the winding wonder of the closer, Ground Aswim is an album that changes each time I listen to it. There are pointed Oso Oso-esque cuts like “Shameplant” alongside songs of painfully emotive loss like “Guest In Your Life.” While the messages and lyrics of these tracks never change (self-growth and dying relationships, respectively), the topics shift depending on what you bring to them as the listener. They’re evergreen subjects that can always be applied to our ever-complicated lives. Depending on what you’re experiencing in your life at the time, these songs can sound completely different, and you’ll always take away something new with each listen. Ground Aswim is a record that poses a series of emotive prompts to the listener and leaves them enough space to fill in the blanks. It’s a beautiful, wondrous, and precious release that ponders, jangles, and reverberates its way deep into the ventricles of your heart. 

 

11 | Hot Mulligan - you’ll be fine

No Sleep Records

No Sleep Records

Now, I know what you’re thinking, ‘a white dude putting an emo band on his album of the year list, how original,’ but I swear that you’ll be fine is better than any of those descriptors would lead you to believe. Look no further than the opening few seconds of the record which kick things off with an aggressive drum line and a frantic bout of tappy emo guitarwork. It’s an all-out assault on the senses, a moshpit-inducing volley that immediately signals Hot Mulligan has ascended to a new level musically. That feeling of an artistic level-up is firmly backed up by the lead singles “Feal Like Crab,” “BCKYRD,” and “Equip Sunglasses,” each of which pair Tades Sanville’s whiny yelp with Chris Freeman’s emo croon. Other highlights include the overwrought “Green Squirrel In Pretty Bad Shape” and the electronic-drum-led “SDPS,” which ends up feeling like a spiritual sequel to “How Do You Know It’s Not Armadillo Shells?” These are songs that beg to be performed live in a room full of sweat-covered strangers who have memorized every word and know every beat. You may not know these people, and they may not know you, but you both know all the words to “OG Blue Sky,” and that is enough.

 

10 | Dogleg - Melee

Triple Crown Records

Triple Crown Records

Melee is an LP years in the making. After countless gigs, lineup changes, and onstage handstands, Dogleg finally revealed their energetic debut album to the world earlier this year on March 13th, just days before society ground to a halt thanks to COVID-19. Look no further than any videos on Twitter, the band’s own music videos, or this very blog for evidence that Dogleg is a band that thrives in the live setting. Robbed of that outlet, the world in which Melee was conceived of and created in no longer exists, and that hurts. Watching the group shred on Audiotree or smash household objects in a freezing Michigan garage is a nice substitute, but everything pales in comparison to being pressed up against a wall of strangers and friends yelling “I’VE BEEN. SET UP. YET AGAIN.” as the serotonin in your body spikes to unforeseen levels. 

Instead, Melee offers an alternate reality; it presents a world in which things didn’t go so far off the rails. An alternate reality where we could take in all of these shredding riffs, swinging bass lines, and agro drum fills in real-time together. This album captures the feeling of seeing Dogleg live better than any of the band’s previous recordings, and that alone is an achievement. We can only hope that we’ll all be back in that freezing Michigan garage again soon because that’s what I’m looking forward to most once this is all over.

 

9 | Guitar Fight From Fooly Cooly - Soak

Self-Released

Self-Released

Listening to Guitar Fight From Fooly Cooly is the audio equivalent of the let’s fucking goooo meme. Within two seconds of pressing play on Soak, you’re greeted with an infamous broken English Mario clip followed by a barrage of jittery emo guitar tapping and frantic drumming. As the band jostles the listener around with energy drink riffs, a flurry of gleeful Mario sound effects score your increasingly-elated emotions as your serotonin rises… and that’s only the first minute. Over the course of the album’s remaining 26 minutes, the group shepherds the listener from Kingdom Hearts samples to throat-shredding screams with skill and ease. The entire release is a free-spirited excursion that never takes itself too seriously. It’s like those nights you spent with friends in high school where you all just gathered at someone’s house and wandered wherever your collective desires took you. Maybe you went on a midnight McDonald’s run, maybe you went into a 7-Eleven with ten bucks and came out with an armful of Arizonas and sour candy, maybe you just stayed in and smoked weed on someone’s dirty couch… maybe you did all three. There isn’t much of a point to be made or a thesis statement to be had on Soak, but much like those high school nights, not having a point kind of is the point. 

 

8 | Bartees Strange - Live Forever

Memory Music

Memory Music

I’m going to come out of the gates swinging here with a bold claim that Live Forever is one of the most creative and confident records released this year. From the floaty introduction on  “Jealousy” to the screaming synthy “Mustang,” no two tracks are alike. Bartees Strange (born Bartees Leon Cox Jr.) culls together a wide array of influences and inspiration throughout the release, resulting in an album that’s always exciting and multifaceted. Songs like the leaned-out “Kelly Rowland” and the rapid-fire “Boomer” deploy contemporary hip-hop vernacular over indie rock instrumentation resulting in a combination that’s distinctly Bartees Strange. “Stone Meadows” is a mid-album highlight that hits with the same soaring emotive weight as a National song (fitting as he also released an EP of National covers earlier this year). There are deeper, more dissonant tracks like “Flagey God” and “Mossblerd,” which lean further Bartees Strange’s electronic tendencies. These interjections come across like uncontrollable bouts of Death Grips-like energy that exist primarily keep the listener on their toes. This is an album that could only be created by Bartees Leon Cox Jr., a collection of ideas, influences, sounds, and words that have been picked up across twenty-some years of hyper-unique learned experiences. It’s a musical melting pot that beautifully reflects the unique space in which creativity flourishes most. 

 

7 | Barely Civil - I’ll Figure This Out

Take This To Heart Records

Take This To Heart Records

For now. Forever. Those are the two sentiments that lie on opposing ends of Barely Civil’s horseshoe of a sophomore album I’ll Figure This Out. While the two states are connected in theory, the path from one to the other is messy and complicated. After all, how does one go from something as temporary as “For Now…” to something as definitive as “...Forever”? How does a relationship move from ‘this is my person for now’ to ‘I love you forever’? How does life go from ‘this is my situation for now’ to ‘this is my existence forever’? It’s staggering to think about how many events make up the space between those decisions, but I’ll Figure This Out does its best to articulate what that arc feels like. 

With this album, Barely Civil took the definitively midwest emo sounds they had explored on their debut album and fleshed them out to an immensely satisfying degree. Assisted by Christ Teti of The World Is A Beautiful Place, these songs shine immaculately, basking in the glow of one of fourth-wave emo’s most influential figureheads. There’s a foreboding riff on “Graves Avenue” that is shrouded in this unshakable diabolical energy. “Box For My Organs” boasts a shreddy guitar lick that throws directly to a catchy sing-along chorus. Most notably, I’ll Figure This Out sees the band mastering the art of the build, creating dynamic emo tracks that breathe, expand, and contract, all within the space of a few minutes. “North Newhall” is a slow-burn that ignites from a jolting guitar stab and works it’s way up to a soaring affirmation. “Hollow Structures” layers on hushed vocals, precious lyricism, careful drumming, and a remorseful trumpet that all build to a fake-out ending only to erupt in a barrage of instrumentation that ends up simmering back down to the exact same place as the start. In exploring the spaces between something as tentative as ‘for now’ and something as lasting as ‘forever,’ Barely Civil managed to craft something beautiful that will live on for the rest of time. 

 

6 | Haim - Women In Music Pt. III

Columbia Records

Columbia Records

One part Stevie Nicks, a pinch of Shania Twain, and a dash of Sheryl Crow. These were the ingredients chosen to create the perfect indie-pop record, and the result was Women In Music Pt. III. I’ll admit I’ve always been pretty lukewarm on Haim; they were never “bad,” but they never rose above “merely pleasing” for me until this year. Over the course of the summer, Women In Music wormed its way into my heart and became the soundtrack to my season of hiking and exploration. Aside from the throwback appeal, the other aspect that kept me coming back to the record was how catchy it is. “Now I’m In It” takes a warbly 1989-era Taylor-Swift electronic bed and pairs it with a rapid-fire vocal delivery that’s as catchy as it is impressive. “Summer Girl” packs the melancholia of Barenaked Ladies’ “Pinch Me” into a singable chorus about short-lasting love. 

There are also lots of risks for what’s ostensibly presented as a pop record. Mid-album highlight “All That Ever Mattered” pairs trappy hi-hats with haunting siren wails that are capped off by a solo worthy of the late great Eddie Van Halen. Meanwhile, “FUBT” takes the sentiment of Yeah Yeah Yeah’s “Maps” but wraps it around a jangly reverb-laden guitar that allows Danielle Haim’s vocals to shine before the track makes way for a passionate guitar solo. In short, there’s lots to love about Women In Music, almost none of which I expected when I first went into the album. With just the right amount of nostalgia, love, heartbreak, and modern pop sensibilities, the Haim sisters were able to create a masterpiece worthy of absolute adoration.

 

5 | 100 gecs - 100 gecs and The Tree of Clues

Dog Show Records

Dog Show Records

Much like 9/11 or the OJ chase, everyone remembers where they were the first time they heard 100 gecs. Maybe you stumbled across a video on Twitter, or you saw a friend talking about them on Discord. Perhaps you saw an out-of-context pissbaby copypasta and decided to do some research. Whatever the case, your first listen to any song off 1000 gecs probably felt like a revelation, and you likely had a strong reaction one way or the other. With 1000 gecs and The Tree of Clues, the hyperpop duo has managed to make their world-shattering debut feel new again and usher in something visionary in the process. 

Whether it’s recontextualizing their songs in a live setting, getting a chorus assist from the likes of Charli XCX, or a Fall Out Boy/Chiodos team-up that completely rebuilds the track from the ground up, it’s incredible how fresh these songs still sound after dozens of listens. Over the course of the album’s 51-minute running time, the gecs allow their guests to explore hip-hop, noise-pop, and Crazy-Frog-esque EDM, all built off the foundation of last year’s debut. 

This record is a marvel of pacing, collaboration, and open-minded ideas. It’s essentially an album-length victory lap for Dylan Brady and Laura Les, who have brought a once-obscure and non-viable genre to the forefront of Twitter talk and Spotify playlists. Tree of Clues is obscure, obfuscating, and ever-changing in the best way possible. The record can radically shift sounds within a matter of seconds, which means it’s never dull. It’s like a shot of espresso injected directly into your veins; for some people, it will leave them fidgety and with a tense jaw, but for others, it will prove to be the exact sort of jolt they needed. Now that the duo has celebrated their win in style, the world waits with bated breath to see what they will do next because nobody is doing it like them. 

 

4 | Lake Saint Daniel - Good Things

Self-Released

Self-Released

Listening to Lake Saint Daniel is like looking at a painting. You stand in front of it, take it in, and eventually find yourself falling into it. This gravitational pull happens over time and occurs so gradually that you might not even notice how involved you’ve become in the piece until something snaps you back to reality. Good Things possesses this transportive power and focuses its message on the concept of youth.

Throughout the album, there are all these little reminders of things you used to do as a child. Things that you had forgotten about, ways of behaving and operating in the world that had once been so viable when you were half the size you are now. “Faking Asleep” hones in on the feeling of being a kid in the backseat on the drive home and pretending to be just sleepy enough that your parents have to carry you in. “Goodbye” fixates on the universal experience of being a kid, getting asked how old you are, and rounding up by a half year or a handful of months to seem more mature. Then, of course, there’s the beautiful cover of “Rainbow Connection” that takes the childhood classic and reimagines it to fit seamlessly within the world of the record. Daniel Radin has a knack for honing in on these universal yet hyper-specific experiences in ways that allow you remember them for the first time in years and love them once again in the process. Good Things makes you want to be a kid again but also acknowledges the reality that those experiences are forever lost to time. It’s a collection of gorgeous country-tinged lullabies for the restless, overworked, anxiety-ridden 20-something, and that’s something I desperately needed this year. This album is a reminder that there are good things in small things, no matter how far removed from them you are.

 

3 | Young Jesus - Welcome to Conceptual Beach

Saddle Creek

Saddle Creek

I can’t think of a single album from 2020 that had a more impactful first listen on me than Young Jesus’ Welcome to Conceptual Beach. This record had been on my radar for a while, thanks to the wonderful people over at No Earbuds, but I went into Conceptual Beach completely blind. My expectations were nonexistent, and that worked in the album’s favor. 

A vague concept album, Conceptual Beach seeks to depict the invented place that exists in lead singer John Rossiter’s head. In translating this mental refuge into music, the group utilizes everything from haunting autotune to fluttering woodwinds. Now a decade into their careers as a band, this record sees Young Jesus gracefully transitioning from emo act to flat-out indie rock, a transition many groups before have tried, but few have executed so masterfully. 

Fluctuating between aching Matt Berninger delivery, mathy Peaer instrumentals, and long stretches of jazzy post-rock jams, the band welcomes the listener to this auditory world and allows them to find their home within it. “Every record needs a thesis, needs a crisis, or campaign,” Rossiter bemoans on lead single “Root and Crown,” the record’s shortest song and (ironically) its thesis. This ballad comes after epic seven-minute builds, hypnotic repetitions, heavenly saxophone solos, and a wild whammy bar deployment. It’s a journey worthy of a Lord of the Rings movie, yet the payoff makes the entire expedition worth it.  

While the record’s first half is beautiful and unlike anything else I’d heard this year, what continues to blow me away about Conceptual Beach even now is the final suite of songs that close out the record. While the first five tracks boast skillful instrumentals, memorable choruses, and passionate deliveries, the last two entries swept me off my feet for a completely different reason. The 12-minute “Lark” follows the same format as some of my favorite songs of all time, such as “Like A River” by Sharks Keep Moving or “Goodbye Sky Harbor” by Jimmy Eat World. These songs establish a scene, build a story, then launch into long meditative instrumental stretches that allow the listener’s mind to wander and fill in the blank portions of the canvas with whatever they choose. Similarly, the 10-minute “Magicians” introduces a life filled with decisions and actions, then lets the listener fill in the gaps with their own life and experiences. 

Welcome to Conceptual Beach is depicting a world and a set of feelings that I never knew existed. I’ve found much solitude in this record, and I feel lucky I’ve had it as a realm in which to escape throughout the year. There is no other group making music quite like Young Jesus, and that’s reinforced with every molecule of this release. 

 

2 | Waxahatchee - Saint Cloud

Merge Records

Merge Records

Saint Cloud is perhaps the only piece of music this year to bring me genuine peace. Whenever it felt like the world outside was spiraling into chaos (a phenomenon I’ve experienced multiple times throughout the last 300-some-odd days), I turned to this album, and it brought me comfort the likes of which no other record could provide. Look no further than the album’s name or cover to experience the tranquil feeling of escaping into the mountains and basking in the warm glow of the sun in the back of your vintage Ford. Listening to Saint Cloud is like wrapping yourself in a warm blanket or finding yourself in the comforting arms of a lover. It is true peace.  

Album opener “Oxbow” begins with a resonant cymbal crash and a concave electronic beat that immediately commands attention. It’s a totally left-field way to open such a folksy album; this odd combination of sounds calls things to order like the three meditative bells that signal the beginning of a meditation. After this subversion, Katie Crutchfield commands the spotlight with a pastoral scene of settling and getting sober. This poetic and abstract journey leads to a repetition of “I want it all” that echoes the same sentiment as the opening track of Japanese Breakfast’s Soft Sounds From Another Planet

After this wholesome and homey introduction, the doors to Saint Cloud have been opened and, you have officially been welcomed in. The carefree soaring high notes of “Can’t Do Much” make way for the soft keys and remorseful delivery of “Fire.” Equal parts catchy, loving, and sorrowful, these songs possess a sort of earthy power that makes me feel deeply connected to the planet we call home. The record winds from one natural view to the next; “Lilacs” is delicate yet bouncy, waving in the air along with the summertime breeze. Meanwhile, other tracks like “Arkadelphia” spend their time depicting Crutchfield’s youth growing up in the south. 

Album closer “St. Cloud” flashes from different locations and perspectives in a way that allows Crutchfield to honor her father and connect herself to his essence forever. It’s a gorgeous, slow, and aching track that is almost too pure for this world. Much like the ten tracks that came before it, this song is just one step forward in the wholesome, naturalistic view of the world that Waxahatchee is offering over the course of the album. Saint Cloud is a beautiful peek into Katie Crutchfield’s mind that resonates with me deeply and calms my soul. I just feel fortunate we’ve been provided this escape in a year where we needed it so badly. 

 

1 | Carpool - Erotic Nightmare Summer

Acrobat Unstable Records

Acrobat Unstable Records

When I premiered the second single to Carpool’s debut album back in May, I had no idea I was helping unveil what would ultimately become my favorite album of the year. A virtually-unknown presence to me until 2020, Carpool is a DIY emo band hailing from Rochester, New York, who signed to the excellent Acrobat Unstable Records earlier this year and came out of the gates with some heat

Within the space of weeks, I went from ‘this is a fun band’ to ‘this record has defined my year’ because it feels like it was so tailor-made for me. Erotic Nightmare Summer brings together catchy pop-punk bounciness from my childhood, headstrong hardcore passages that take me back to high school, and tappy emo guitarwork that has become my go-to over the last few years. On top of this instrumental excellence you have Stoph Colasanto’s excellent writing and vocals that range from a Prince Daddy & The Hyena-esque yelp to emo softness in the vein of Macseal. Wrap all of this together and you have a collection of ten songs that bring together nearly everything I love in one place.

Opening track “Cruel Intentions” kicks things off with a slow simmer as a multi-tracked vocal line welcomes the listener to the record over a tapped guitar riff. Gradually, bass and drums turn up the heat as the lyrics become more impassioned, culminating in Colasanto’s trademarked sneer. Just as the track builds to a bouncy moshpit-inducing riff, things boil over, transitioning perfectly to “Whiskey & Xanax,” where a boppy glockenspiel is paired with a swaying emo riff equal parts danceable and moshable. I could probably write about every song on this album, but recognize album of the year write-ups are supposed to be somewhat succinct.

Whether it’s the snappy “Salty Song,” the biting “Beauty School Dropout,” the thrashy “Come Thru Cool,” or the heartfelt “Liquor Store Employee,” Erotic Nightmare Summer never makes a misstep. The fact that this record clocks in at a mere 30 minutes means it’s easy to return to and is infinitely relistenable. Erotic Nightmare Summer genuinely feels like a breath of fresh air in the emo scene; it wakes up my mind and warms my body like a good cup of coffee. Hearing these relatable topics tackled in such a laid-back yet energetic way may seem contradictory, but it’s also affirming because that reflects my own approach to life. As my leg bounces along with the drums and my mind pangs back and forth trying to keep up with the frantic guitar work, I somehow feel comforted. As I scream along to each verse and shout every chorus for no one but my steering wheel, I feel at peace. As I listen to Erotic Nightmare Summer, I feel at home.