Hater's Delight – 2024 Edition

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Back by popular demand, Hater’s Delight returns for one last ride through the depths of 2024. While we retired the column for most of this year, by the time December rolled around, the Swim Team realized there was more than enough material to constitute a roundup of our collective displeasure. 

If you’re just now joining us for the first time, Hater’s Delight was a recurring micro-review column we ran throughout 2023 intended to be a space where our team of Swim Into The Sound writers could vent about the things online, in music, and in culture that got under our skin. 

Each writer gets a paragraph to bitch about their chosen topic, then, once we expel the Haterade from our systems, we all go back to loving music and enjoying art. Speaking of which, if you’re more in the mood for some positivity, check out our staff’s favorite albums of the year or our 2024 Song Showdown to see what we actually enjoyed this year. Swear it’s not all bad vibes. 

Enough being tempered; let’s get into the hatred. From the bland and banal to the offensive and insulting, let’s take a look back at all the things we’d prefer to leave in 2024. 

Zach Bryan’s Waste of a Great Idea

My litany of grievances with Zach Bryan is long. From the credible accusations that he’s a manipulative and abusive boyfriend to the fact that his head looks like a LEGO, the sin which warrants the below column is Bryan’s penchant for making the most mealy-mouthed milquetoast records and giving Country music a worse name.

The roll-out for Zach Bryan’s The Great American Bar Scene set the tone. Bryan announced that “select cuts” from the album would be played in “23 bars across the country that embody the spirit of American culture.” From Iron Horse Saloon in Oologah, Oklahoma, to Saratoga Lanes in St. Louis, Missouri (a bowling alley that still allows cigarettes inside), the selected bars represented a sort of divey blue-collar cash-only vibe.

Direct references to real-life bars and the inclusion of background noise like pool balls clacking are pretty much as far as the Great American Bar vibe goes—and the din gets quickly abandoned after a few tracks. If the goal was to create an album that tells a story about “Real Americans” and the watering holes at which they gather, this album is not quite that. If the goal was a collection of a few too many tracks with a loose thematic rubber band around them, that’s closer.

Sonically, The Great American Bar Scene is an overstuffed collection of Zach Bryan’s signature sound: mid-tempo meandering with brushed drum shuffles and the occasional Stom-Clap-Hey chorus. It’s mumbly SaddBoi low-energy background music with maybe one or two genuine upbeat foot-tappers. At 19 tracks and over an hour, the album is far less Happy Hour and far more Marathon Bender–and the hangover is just as bad.

This type of low-effort and lower-interest bullshit is not surprising coming from Bryan. What is so galling and frustrating is that he wasted a fun, exciting, and interesting concept like “an homage to dive bars” by just dipping back into his signature deflated sound. Sure, every great bar needs some dirgey sad bastard music, but there’s just nothing here worthy of slugging shots to. For an album that set out to honor the Great American Bar, one would expect more Molly Hatchet and less Damien Rice. Americans pine to link arms with their fellow barflies and scream catchy choruses together. Unfortunately, The Great American Bar Scene sounds more like silently sipping neat gin under a naked lightbulb.

So, on top of being a bad boyfriend, Zach Bryan also squandered an amazing opportunity to make a kick-ass saloon classic. And for that, may Merle and Waylon never forgive him.

Caleb Doyle – @ClassicDoyle


AI-Generated Album Art: Every Day We Stray Further from God’s Light

While my 2024 bingo card didn’t include Tears for Fears releasing a new album, it certainly didn’t include them releasing an album featuring abysmally ugly AI-generated cover art (if you can even call it art). An astronaut? In a field of sunflowers? What is this, 2011? You’re telling me that NONE of you had a throwback photo, concert shot, or a starving artist you wanted to commission? Pretty embarrassing for them. 

Even worse, the band doubled down on their decision and defended it online. It was cringe-worthy to see, especially considering that “Mad World” is one of my favorite songs of all time. You will never be able to convince me that AI art is a better option than hiring a living, breathing, feeling human being to create something for you. “But it’s so convenient! Computers are forever! AI is shaping the future!” SHUT UP! As the modern sage Caleb Hearon said, “The beauty [of mortality] is that the cup runs out.” Impermanence is part of being alive. It is part of the human experience. It is part of creating art.

Tears for Fears’ decision is sloppy, distasteful, and thumbs its nose at the very essence of being an artist of any kind. And you know what? I like Gary Jules’ cover of “Mad World” better anyway.

Britta Joseph – @brittajoes


Katy Perry Explaining Satire 

 
 

“Girlboss Shit!” exclaims the demon that sits on my chest at night as I try to fall asleep. It’s referring to a video of Katy Perry rising from the ashes of the crumbling institution of the American Brain to explain the concept of satire to the mouth-breathing masses. Dressed like an oiled-up construction worker projecting the simulacrum of sexuality, Ms. Perry lets us know that it’s okay, she’s not being serious about sexuality and femininity. Or maybe she is? Either way – it’s satire! You dumb fuck. You mushy-brained numbskull. How could you think for a second that she believes this or doesn’t believe it? Whatever “It” is. The inscrutable politics are a statement on… women? I don’t know, and it doesn’t matter. As she stands in front of a line of silent, sexualized Black women, Katy Perry says something about the male gaze before retreating to her trailer to write a lengthy defense of her producer/notable rapist Dr. Luke before going to vote for Republicans to execute unhoused people in the streets of LA. Sorry, honey! That’s satire. She’s like the white Paul Beatty or the American Coralie Fargeat. 

As America was sweating through the designer-drug-fueled heat of Brat Summer, Katy Perry was busy constructing her own world. It’s a Woman’s World, you see. And we’re lucky to be living in it. Eagle-eyed fans might have noticed that this Woman’s World was filled with imagery stol– uh, borrowed – from other women. Women like Arca – whose transhumanist iconography Katy claims as her own “idea of feminine divine.” But the beauty of Katy Perry’s world is that everything is fair game. Interestingly, as Katy explains in this video, her ascension to the divine requires the literal smashing of Black working-class women. What happens to them? Doesn’t matter! Girlboss Shit! 

As our handle on nuance continues to slip day by day, it’s heartening to know that there are people like Katy Perry out there, doing the lord’s work by loudly exclaiming that you can project your own meaning onto them. The lack of perspective is the point.

As I am finally about to drift off to sleep, I hear a sincere-sarcastic whisper in my ear: “You go, girl.” Thank you, Demon That Sits On My Chest, that means a lot. 

Joshua Sullivan – @brotherheavenz


The Insurmountable Greed of Taylor Swift

Look, I like Taylor Swift a lot. I’ve been following her career and enjoying her music for well over a decade now. According to last.fm, I’ve racked up nearly 2k plays on her music. Last year, I snuck a bottle of wine into my local theater to enjoy The Eras Tour on the big screen. Five years ago, I went as Lover-era Taylor Swift for Halloween, complete with a glitter heart around my eye and a blonde wig atop my head. I’m laying all this out because, again, I like Taylor Swift. That said, she hasn’t exactly been on a hot streak lately. While I was initially on board with “Taylor’s Versions” as a concept and loved that she was reclaiming her work, after she butchered my beloved 1989, the sheen started to wear off. Then there was the middling Midnights and, this year, the insipid Tortured Poets Department. To me, the 16-song base version was bland enough, but then one day later, Swift dropped a 31-song version of the record, effectively turning it into a double album that brought TPD to an unwieldy two-hour runtime. If that wasn’t enough, she spent the year dropping 36 different variants of the album, sapping her audience of all disposable income, and keeping other artists from reaching #1 on multiple occasions in a way that feels more strategic and insidious than accidental. Shrewd business moves aside, this just seems like pure gluttony on Swift’s part, and all this for what’s easily her snooze-worthy album. The worst part is that it worked. Her tour made billions of dollars, her janky-ass book is a best-seller, and diehard “auto-buy” Swifties lined up to buy each version in droves, so what incentive does Swift have to change? It’s art as consumption carried out to its logical extreme. This is no longer about the music or even the artist; this is about owning all the things you possibly can. This is the type of greed they talk about in the bible.

Taylor Grimes – @GeorgeTaylorG


Being Shamed For Using Apple Music By Spotify 

 
 

It’s funny how every year, on the first Wednesday after Thanksgiving (it’s an official date, people), Spotify users take the opportunity to brag about their “in-depth” Spotify Wrapped and subsequently use that opportunity to exclaim how much better they are than Apple Music users. To an extent, sure, Apple Music doesn't have the most advanced UI, and the streaming service is only linked with Apple products, but come on. When compared to Spotify, Apple Music pays about double per stream, has much better audio quality, and, to my knowledge, doesn’t add any of their in-house AI monstrosities onto their own playlists. But sure, go ahead and talk about how you had a bubblegum-house-daydream March or whatever while you post Taylor Swift in your top five artists for the fifth year in a row.

Samuel Leon – @sleonpics


Stan Culture: Internet Feudalism Without Sick-Ass Trebuchets

I think we’re done here, y’all. I think it’s time for some internal accountability. I think it’s time to emulate the love and light that you so loudly claim to absorb and bathe in from your faves. It’s time to osmose some humility and grace from that single you’ve been stream farming. In the last decade or so, I’ve watched a simple dig at people who take their love for artists too seriously morph into a wild, uncountably headed hydra that has wreaked real-world havoc on innocent people with dissenting opinions. Frankly, it serves no one and nothing. Acting as a roving band of marauders for someone you basically treat as a liege lord has become so unrepentantly weird, heinous, and toxic that if it becomes a psychological diagnosis in like 10 years, I wouldn’t be surprised. I am begging you to decouple from centering a person who doesn’t know you exist and not to use your redlined dopamine receptors as your compass when acting on your punitive impulse to act against people who critique or vocally express distaste for someone who creates subjective art. I know I’m painting with a broad brush here, and that’s unfair to those stans who are actually normal people who understand how to react to another human being on the internet. But we neeeeeeed to start really pushing back for all of us, baby.

Elias Amini– @letsgetpivotal


Internet Irony-Poisoning at Concerts

Photo credit: King of the Hill, me

I'm going to keep this short. I'm going to keep this sweet. Take off the cowboy hat at that show. Don’t wear a shark costume to the gig. Don’t bring a Nintendo DS to a concert for the sole purpose of holding it up for a grainy picture. If any of this was funny, it was funny in the IRL meme-saturated days of, like, 2017. I just checked my calendar, and it says it's December 2024. It's embarrassing, and I’m telling you this because I love you. I really love you, and I want you to put the sarcastic approach to everything you love down. Like...why are you wearing that costume anyway? Because it’s ironic? Because you’re being sarcastic? It's not like it's comfortable, and now you’ve committed your whole night to what? Being a banana? Do you just want someone to take a picture of you, post it online, and say you’re funny? Post it online and say you’re funny? Does everything have to be a joke to you? Do you have to be the center of attention constantly? Can't you just enjoy yourself? Are you scared of being earnest for two seconds? Is this music so brutally honest to you that you have to wear a big, funny hat about it like weird armor from Amazon dot com? And now I can't see the stage, jackass.

This also applies to sarcastic pit-starting, filming yourself crowd surfing, and most Lightning McQueen merch at MJ Lenderman concerts this fall. 

Caro Alt – @firstwaveemo


Hater-dazed, Psychedelic, Mood-core, Genre-Identifier Daylists 

At the beginning of 2024, people would head to social media to share the latest daylist Spotify had generated for them. Suddenly, descriptions like “soccer-pilled, high school senior, emo afternoon” and “piano-keyed, dandelion-farmed, folk evening” began to appear everywhere. At first, the genres seemed like a fun way to let an evil corporation roast you with nonsense. And then, it became inescapable. Clueless-closet, rainy 90s, grunge-core afternoons bled into fork-in-socket, indie-haze, orchestral rock nights. The one consistency? None of these words were ever in the Bible. 

The entire thing was a way to monetize a larger trend in music: the subgenre-ization of subgenres. It was no longer enough to be shoegaze. It had to be doomgaze or countrygaze or something else entirely. This trend in categorizing wasn’t new, but the hyper-specific approach seemed to take on a meteoric rise with the constantly generated playlists. Let me be clear: I'm not against breaking genres down a bit further than the typical labels of “rock” or “hip-hop” or “indie folk.” Categorizations are necessary when searching for new bands or recommending beloved artists, but at the end of the day, Spotify’s method was total nonsense. It served as their way of forcing a feeling of fomo by creating something new that wasn’t necessarily good or coherent. 

So, if you need me in 2025, you can find me shaking my fist at the cloud-core, sleeper-heavy, frustrated morning sky. 

Lindsay Fickas – @lindsayfickas


Disheveled Alt-Mullets on Men

 
 

Once upon a time, mullets were mock-worthy. Now, they are everywhere, on all types of people, worn to widely varying degrees of success. But the one strain that really pisses me off is the wannabe-Mac DeMarco mullet. You know the one: greasy, unkempt, worn by a guy who is 85% likely to have a trust fund. The guy who is cosplaying being a slacker with a dose of feigned childishness. Despite being so Quirky and Goofy, he is somehow too cool to talk to you at the local indie rock show. His girlfriend is a lithe, oddly successful ceramicist. Like every other dude with the exact same scraggly, unwashed cut, he can't be burdened by society's onerous male attractiveness standards. He and his ilk are pioneers in an aesthetic that no one before them has ever tried: irony. What better way to show you are too cool to care than a purposefully ugly haircut? Well, I see right through you. The shag doth protest too much.

Katie Hayes (Wojciechowski) – @ktewoj


Drake Lawsuit

What happened to the game I love? Drake, coming off an embarrassing defeat at the hands of Kendrick Lamar in the Great Rap War of 2024, is now suing his own record label for cooking the books with “Not Like Us,” the song that dealt the final blow. I understand wanting to go after the evil empire of record labels; they’re all corrupt, so it’s the right act but the wrong messenger. Let me get on my Al Pacino Devil’s Advocate horse real quick, for argument's sake, and say the books were cooked; Drake benefitted from this same foul play for years on end from this same record label. When the result finally doesn’t go his way, he throws a temper tantrum. 

In 2001, Nas rapped about Jay-Z “being 36 in a karate class,” he wasn’t taken to court for slander accusations. There was no opening testimony from Jay-Z speaking to a judge, “Well, your honor, I was actually 32, and it was a taekwondo class.” He took his loss on the chin and kept making great music. Drake needs to take a page out of every other rapper’s book by taking the loss and moving on. Lose with a little dignity, why don’t you? And I like Drake, so this is coming from a place of love like a concerned cousin. But damn…. even Ja Rule didn’t even go out this pitiful.

David Williams – @davidmwill89


BRAT-Overdose

No record had a bigger cultural impact in 2024 than Charli xcx’s BRAT. When Charli began painting the town lime green with her wildly successful album rollout, BRAT felt like the culmination of a decade-plus of pop music experiments. After years as a poster girl for Pop’s Middle Class, a hero to funemployed twinks, and “the ‘Boom Clap’ Girl” to your coworkers, Charli made what could in some ways be considered the anti-pop star pop album. On BRAT, she sings about her inability to fit into the mold occupied by more conventional and commercially successful pop artists, the pressure to compete with other musicians who occupy a similar niche as her, and her admiration of another cult pop hero who was ahead of her time before her life was tragically cut short. 

As a young woman in a creative field who is lucky enough to be friends with many other young women in creative fields, the songs on BRAT resonate with the part of me that knows well what it’s like to be brimming with both pride and jealousy for a friend’s talents, or to stand around nervously sipping my drink instead of networking at a party where I feel glaringly out-of-place. I love BRAT in the same way that I love getting a text from a confidant that reads, “can i be a total bitch for a minute?” It’s the Hater’s Delight of pop records!

Brat Summer was fun at first. When “360” first dropped, I played the video on a loop each morning while getting ready in the morning for a week straight. I dashed from a BRAT listening party to a Wild Pink show like a true Gal About Town. The coolest thing you could be was a girl with thick, curly hair, a wardrobe full of black clothing, and a resting bitchface—I was in my element. 

I loved Brat Summer up until the infamous “Kamala IS Brat” tweet and Charli’s subsequent breach of niche containment. Don’t get me wrong, it’s wonderful to see Charli get her flowers after all this time. The album really is that good! And so are the remixes! But something shifted when lime green became the unofficial color of the DNC. Now that Kamala was Brat, everything was Brat. And if everything is Brat, nothing is. 

If you’ve been on the Girls ‘n Gays side of the internet this year, you’ve probably heard of the term “khia,” which, first of all, put some FUCKING respect on Khia’s name—“My Neck, My Back” is a banger! And second, the line between “khia” and “niche” is thinner than Gabbriette’s eyebrows. Is that C-list pop girl khia, or is she a cult hero? Who among us wouldn’t love to be Carly Rae Jepsen-famous—a one-hit wonder to the general public, the People’s Pop Star to those who can truly appreciate her brilliance? Maybe being everything to everybody is overrated and being “famous but not quite” is actually where it’s at.

Runner-Up: I wrote about this for Paste a few months ago, but can we all please agree to be more normal about Chappell Roan in 2025? I don’t think people realize how jarring it is to go from being a fucking camp counselor in suburban Missouri to being one of the most famous pop stars in the world in just a couple of months. That’s a massive change, and almost no time to adjust to it; you’d probably be yelling at photographers too if you were her. 

Grace Robins-Somerville – @grace_roso


Enemy Of The Music Business

Everyone’s an easy target. I could write about how I still don’t understand the post-Lana Del Rey underperformance of Billie Eilish, or the post-Lady Gaga third-rate cabaret flamboyance of Chappell Roan, or the promotion of underage alcoholics who get their news from TikTok of Olivia Rodrigo, but they all make children’s music for children, so what reason do I have to be mad at them? I could write about how the new Foxing album is for kids who were too smart to join theater but too dumb to take calculus, or how the new Vampire Weekend album is for people who criticize jam bands and hippies but listen to music more void of substance than the worst selling Dick’s Picks concert release, or how the new Tyler, The Creator album is for people who think about thinking about maybe one day having a deep thought on culture or society but never actually get there and instead try to tell me what the highlights are on Vultures, but I’ve never bought my girlfriend’s dad a shirt he hated that he can’t return, so that’s not really worth my time. I could write about how Jack White has stumbled and failed to reach the same immediacy of The White Stripes ever since the band broke up and only ends up becoming a Tim Burton reject version of Prince, which frankly is more of an insult to Prince, or how Green Day has been canonized as dad rock for fifteen years, releasing songs that sound like they discovered their sons’ diaries with introductory knowledge on anarchy, and how they look like washed up Social Distortion tattoo havers telling their grandkids about a hip band from back in their time they used to listen to called Green Day, or how Kings Of Leon transitioned from being a cocaine-fueled, cousin-kissing, southern rock Strokes spinoff into a band that hardly qualifies as music, now putting out albums that are even less noticeable than the Goodwill new age cassettes I bought last week, but if you think any of these bands still qualify as rock music, then there’s nothing I have to offer you. I guess enjoy the new Rian Johnson mystery movie next year? Some artists just aren’t for me (Clairo), some artists I will never understand the hype for (St. Vincent), and some artists I think objectively make shit from a butt (Father John Misty). But I’m having a way better time lately defending music others are criticizing than hating on music others are praising. Is this progress? Am I growing as a person? I’ll be 30 in 2025, and maybe it’s a sign I can’t spend all day online tweeting (blueskying?) at people about how they’re braindead simpletons for enjoying Fontaines D.C. or MGMT. I listened to almost 500 new releases this year, so trust me that I’ve earned the haterade I regularly drink and spit out, and the reality is that I listen to more music I like each year than music I don’t. But come the fuck on, you people actually think Beyoncé made a worthwhile country album and not just another bland pop-rap album with slide guitar? Please.

Logan Archer Mounts - hate mail can be directed to:
1122 Boogie Woogie Ave, PO Box 42069


Pitchfork and the Record Economy

For the last ten years, I’ve had Cindy Lee’s Act of Tenderness in my Discogs wantlist. You know why? I’ve been a fan for that long–I just can’t (and don’t) buy every single album whenever I want it. Some records get prioritized, and others remain on the wantlist until the mood strikes. Since Cindy Lee was relatively niche and their records were always around the $20 mark, I figured I had all the time in the world. Then, the worst thing possible happened–critical acclaim. 

Now, I am fine that Cindy Lee is finally getting some money, and I’m more than happy that Cindy Lee is gaining new fans–I’m not that kind of hipster. What sucks, for me, is the vinyl record economy and how Pitchfork inadvertently affects the market.

^Not this type of hipster.

240% increase of Cindy Lee’s 2020 record.

On April 12, 2024, I went to Pitchfork dot com to see the glowing 9.1 Diamond Jubilee “Best New Music” review for Cindy Lee’s 3xLP opus. And because I am a nerd, I immediately went to my Discogs wantlist to snatch up copies of Cindy Lee albums I had wanted yet neglected to buy for years. The flipping had already begun. What were once $20 records had already doubled in price by 2023. Now that Diamond Jubilee was deemed worthy of everyone’s attention, the prices of Cindy Lee’s previous albums had doubled again. As the months went by, the cost of Act of Tenderness just kept rising–recently selling for $112 in November.

“I hate you, Discogs record flippers. You suck the joy out of my favorite hobby. You don’t deserve my money at all!” I say as my cursor hovers over the Add to Cart button. Click.

Russ Finn – @dialup_ghost


You’ve been homogenized.

PICTURED: The recommended songs for the playlist exercise outlined below. Is this exploring?

Log into Spotify right now. Make a new playlist. Go ahead and add a couple of songs you love most. The ones you feel epitomize you and your taste. The kind of song you only hear once in a lifetime. For me, it was these. When you’re done (nine or ten is all you should really need), scroll to the bottom of the page and peek at the recommended songs section. What do you see?

Now for the interesting part. Take a screenshot, send this column to a friend, and have them repeat the exercise. If their taste is anything like yours, compare notes. What do you see?

The same fucking songs. Every goddamn time. No matter the vibe or the current content of the playlist– it could be entirely The Shaggs, and the algorithm would still serve up “Waiting Room” or “Grave Architecture” in an effort to serve some binary command such as “SATISFY CUSTOMER.” It makes a mockery of the discovery process, the magic of digging through stacks of fanzines or flipping through the “alternative” section of your local record store and finding something worth more than solid gold. It removes the chance of real connection beyond the surface level–that feeling of true resonance when the right song plays on the college radio station, on the bar’s jukebox, in your friend’s kitchen at midnight, at the show with five touring bands.

What’s worse than the automation of emotion is the automation of industry. Records are a novelty, and the stores that sell them rarely have the funds to invest in selling local bands’ records or lesser-known national bands. What they do have in abundance is sixteen crates full of Taylor Swift and Charli xcx, the canonized indies’ 30th-anniversary box sets, and some secondhand Stax albums ignored in a corner. People are losing their jobs in vinyl pressing plants, record labels, stores, venues, and even talent scouting to the encroaching online music industry. It’s all been relegated to social media campaigning, Ticketmaster queues, Christmastime Amazon orders, massive overseas factories dedicated to replicating Brat green–and even to a recommended section dedicated to homogenizing your taste.

Face it, we don’t explore the way we used to musically. Our society has accepted the idea of algorithmic control part and parcel, making the jobs of money-grubbing executives easier every day. As consumers lose their say in the music industry, we’ll be left with absolutely nothing. We’ll be living in a cultural desert, completely surrounded by inflatable dolls of pop stars gushing water–and there will be nowhere else to drink.

I hope Daniel Ek is next.

Michaela Doorjamb  – no applicable Twitter


Unsportsmanlike Conduct

Pictured: racks on racks on racks OR my crush fund

When Pity Sex’s first set in New York since 2016 back in August ended, I clapped for approximately one second before sticking my arm straight out, begging for a setlist. The band handed out two of their three setlists and walked off. I left my arm stretched as their crew came out when some college kid got on stage and grabbed the remaining setlist. At that moment, I felt shame for the sport. 

The thrill of getting a setlist is in being chosen by the crew or the band to get this coveted piece of paper. The joy of showing one off comes from the fact you may not have gotten it. My most beloved setlist is from the first time I saw Crush Fund because I asked for it, and it spawned a deep relationship with the band. By getting on stage to grab a setlist, you cheated not only the setlist, but yourself. 

At the secret Jeff Rosenstock show at Baby’s All Right last year, a friend grabbed one off the stage for me while John DeDomenici was reaching for it to give away, and I got embarrassed. Embarrassed enough to give it to the person next to me who didn’t mantel the stage? Not a chance in hell. 

If you’re getting on stage, it should be to jump off IMMEDIATELY (when there are enough people to land on), not to cherry-pick the setlist.

Lillian Weber – @Lilymweber

Hater's Delight – July 2023

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This July has been the longest, sweatiest, shittiest month of the year so far. Let’s hear it for unending heat, unbreathable air, and unforgivable takes from every fuckwit with a phone screen! The sooner this month’s over, the better; let’s send it out the door with a kick in the pants in the form of this month’s Hater’s Delight.

If you’re just now joining us for the first time, Hater’s Delight is a monthly micro-review column brought to you by our team of Swim Into The Sound writers and a guest or two. This is a space where we can vent about the things online and in music that have gotten under our skin this past month. Each writer gets a paragraph to bitch about their chosen topic, then once we expel the Haterade from our systems, we all go back to loving music and enjoying art. Speaking of which, if you’re more in the mood for some positivity, here’s a playlist of all this month’s new releases that I enjoyed (or at least found notable) to help you keep up on everything that’s happened in July.

Spotify UI

Oh, Spotify. I don’t like your artist payouts, and I don’t like your pivot to video. I don’t like your alt-right podcasts, and I don’t like your SEO slop. There’s a virtually endless list of things I dislike about the world’s most ubiquitous music streaming platform, yet I use it every day. Don’t get me wrong, I still have my physical media and a hefty MP3 library, so I am not beholden to Spotify, but I use it because it is synonymous. Because Spotify is some people’s sole way to interact with music, I think it’s worth analyzing, criticizing, and discussing. Earlier this year, I wrote about artists clogging Spotify up with single bloat, but now Spotify is inflicting this visual repetition on itself. On the desktop version of Spotify, the company recently introduced “Now Playing View,” which replaces the “Friend Activity” panel on the far-right side of the screen. Now the space is absorbed by a larger version of the album art, a song title, the artist name, bio, merch, tour dates, and what’s next in the queue. If that sounds like a lot, it’s because it is! Half of it is redundant information to what is already displayed on the bottom left, and the rest of it is pretty useless to the average listener. I presume this is a way to elevate ticket sales and promote merch, both of which Spotify gets a kickback on, but do we really need all of this info on screen? Especially when you’re paving over my literal friends and family, you better replace that with something just as compelling. While you can still click the “Friend Activity” button to return to the old view, the “Now Playing View” returns each time you click on a new song, so it might as well be there for good. This is all on top of recent changes to the sidebar, playlist organization, and various other changes, all of which make Spotify worse for the wear. 

Taylor Grimes – @GeorgeTaylorG


Apple Music v. Spotify: Dawn of Bullshit

 I’m self-aware enough to say that I am an Apple fanboy. It wasn’t on purpose; it just kind of happened, like how I got into the Mission: Impossible movies because my sister likes them, and I want to make her happy. This past week, I purchased an Apple Watch after years of thinking it wasn’t for me. I found enough reasons (i.e., easy access to a timer for teaching, the fitness tracker, and… a watch) to justify the cheapest finance option. Because I am in the minority and sip the Apple Juice (patent pending), I find it frustrating when anyone links music to Spotify as the default. Call me lazy, but I’m sick of searching on Apple Music for something that’s immediately available at Spotify users’ thumbs.

I understand why Spotify has a chokehold on streaming music. Sometimes I wish I subscribed just to experience its superior social aspects and playlisting. Yet, for all of the reasons that Taylor listed above, I still find the company’s actions and policies toward artists deplorable and solely a necessary evil in our current brand of capitalism. :sips Apple Juice: Whenever I share music online, I send a Bandcamp link to support the artist directly. If recipients do not wish to support, then at least the stream is immediately available to Spotify and Apple Music users alike. (Either way, I’m ridiculed for sending Bandcamp or Apple Music links because they’re not Spotify.) Although I’m happy at how Bandcamp has grown, it still does not feel like the default, agnostic streaming service that anyone can use immediately and remains a niche for independent labels and smaller musicians. Perhaps someday, it or another streaming service/online music storefront will be the norm, but that day feels far away. Regardless of which you use, M.A.R.T.H.A. remains: Music Algorithms Revile Trying to Help Artists. 

Joe Wasserman – @a_cuppajoe


“I am the one you love to hate.”

In a very meta paragraph here, I’m giving my hate to the haters. Code Orange has been pushing heavy music boundaries their entire career. Their left-of-center approach to hardcore and metal has been celebrated by freaks and questioned by cowards on every album. In 2017, they began incorporating more elements of alternative and industrial music on their album Forever, with songs like “Bleeding Into The Blur” and “Ugly” packed with soaring choruses fit for rock arenas. The most stubborn members of the hardcore community turned up their noses and turned their backs on the band, but they always seem to reappear whenever the band has new music to promote just to give their two cents. Online comments surrounding their latest single, “Take Shape,” are filled with sentiments like “This band fell off” and “Code Orange still sucks.” The first statement is confusing, considering their last album, Underneath, was the biggest of their career, released on March 13, 2020, and helped spawn the livestream music era. It also got them onto 2021 support tours for Korn and Slipknot, undeniably two of the country’s biggest metal acts. Redarding the second point, if Code Orange’s new music isn’t for you, that’s fine. There are a million homogenous California beatdown bands’ demos for you to choose from, only for you to forget about when the next ones come out after those, and so on and so on. But Code Orange is clearly doing something unique; they always have been (cue astronaut meme). It is palpable how much effort and energy they put into this music if you really listen to it. I mean, they got fucking Billy Corgan to sing the bridge on “Take Shape.” Not any bullshit band can do that; only a 1000% dedicated band gets that kind of co-sign. And Code Orange is absolutely deserving of it.

Logan Archer Mounts – @VERTICALCOFFIN


Three Chords and Some Bullshit

A lot of people on the internet are talking about Jason Aldean’s new song “Try That in a Small Town,” calling it racist, White Nationalist propaganda that stokes and cultivates an ever-widening division between rural American conservatives and… everyone else in the country. Honestly, I’m just astounded anyone can hear it at all, given that it is composed entirely of dog whistles. Now, I personally agree that this song is probably racist, but bad-faith actors note how there is nothing particularly racist about the song’s lyrical content, so I won’t try to tackle that. Here’s what I will say instead:

Jason Aldean lives in the city–my city. We both are transplants in Nashville, sporting cowboy hats and making country music (I write my own songs, though). But get this, I’m from a small town of 600 people, while he is from Macon, Georgia–population: 153,095. He’s not afraid of the city. He’s only ever lived in the city. He’s nothing but a right-wing grifter. Aldean knows his fans are bootlickers who are afraid of everything Fox News tells them to be afraid of. He’s a phony who would never want to actually live in the country. But he knows what he’s doing, and it’s given him a #1 country song. The song sucks though, and anyone with an ounce of integrity knows the song sucks. Three chords and some bullshit. I’ll say though–if this song keeps Aldean’s fearful fans at his bar on Broadway and away from all the other parts of Nashville, I reckon it’s doing some good.

Russ Finn – @russfinn


Message to Snail Mail

Snail Mail recently posted an Instagram Story claiming that we must “bring back hating on things”... Miss Mail, I couldn't agree more! For starters, I hate your attitude; I hate that you posted a pretty gracious Pitchfork profile of you years after it happened and called the writer a “huge cunt;” I hate how rude you were when you played Chicago on tour with JPEGmafia and Turnstile last October, snapping at your guitar tech, snapping at the sound guy, snapping at the audience saying “fuck all of this;” I hate that you posted yourself on Instagram posing with a handgun in rural Nevada–Lindsey, you went to private school in Baltimore! My culture is not your costume! But most of all, I think if you’re going to behave like a snotty little irresponsible rockstar, you should at least make music that is good enough to justify that behavior. Because I hate, hate, Snail Mail’s music, not just the most recent record, but all of it, from the goopy insubstantial beginnings to the limp and insipid present, and have no reason to revisit or reconsider unless you undergo rapid character development. Being kind isn’t a rockstar characteristic, but it is cool in its own way. Try it; you might like it. Godspeed!

Elizabeth – @OneFeIISwoop


What’s more important? Your own self-importance or the audience's? (Or "How I learned to hate Miranda Lambert")

I'm very happy to have the opportunity to "go off" this month, but when rattlin' my noggin for what I wanted to write about, I thought of everything I could possibly hate. However, for some reason, the same stupid bullshit continued coming up in every space in my life. People were talking about it at work. My server was talking about it at the restaurant. My mom even asked me about it. By "it," I'm begrudgingly referring to the moment country pop star Miranda Lambert stopped her show in Las Vegas because a group of women in her VIP section started taking a group photo—seemingly a completely unimportant and uninteresting moment in pop music. Unfortunately, parents and grandparents across the corn fields of Ohio (Where I happen to be) took this as a sign of her love for genuine human connection, or as I see it, her hatred of it. I don't have any strong feelings toward pop music in general, and I usually disregard any "news" involving such people. This time was different because of how inescapable it was. Everyone had an opinion. Some of which were kissing her (cowboy) boots. 

Aloe Weetman – @aloe_wise


We Will Not Be Rehabilitating Everyone’s Taste For Buckcherry

We’ve been going through an odd resurgence of late. The Will Yip-core edge of every modern punk adjacent band's new release has whet the appetite for 90s grunge/alt-rock sonics and aesthetics. This was inevitable, hell I’d even say understandable as the internet cycles through everything that has come before, as well as people and bands having been unabashed with their inspirations and even deep fondness for everything from Nu metal to Creed in recent years. Has it become a bit rote and tired? Sure. All this I can abide, even though I feel like I’ve been hearing the same album in slightly different fonts all year, but sometimes that's how the green screen background music video rolls. However, we can’t simply roll over and let this spirited go at revisionist history convince both newer music fans and older heads alike that they can feel good about enjoying Buckcherry. Buckcherry is awful. And not in the fun Nickelbacky it’s-kind-of-bad-but-it’s-actually-a-banger type of way. Buckcherry is just downright dog tripe. How far are we willing to fall here? Buckcherry’s primary claim to fame is their boring and repetitive single “Crazy Bitch.” This misogynistic and deeply questionable regaling of sexual coercion isn’t just dog water as a piece of art but also has a dodgy history featuring a minor in their sexually explicit behind-the-scenes short showing the making of the music video. How this band is still around isn’t baffling to me, but seeing the slow creep of rewritten love and acknowledgment of grunge and alt-rock bands like Staind and Creed, leads me to believe we’re only a viral trend away from Ed Hardy hats and Affliction jeans worming their way back into the public zeitgeist. I am begging everyone to just bedazzle their own headwear and denim, and please leave this withered, sunbleached garbage lost to the sepia-tinted wastelands of 2000s hard rock.

Elias Amini – @letsgetpivotal

Hater's Delight – June 2023

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After an unexpected month off, the Swim Into The Sound team is back with another edition of Hater’s Delight, and we’re absolutely bubbling over with bad vibes. 

If you’re just now joining us for the first time, Hater’s Delight is a monthly micro-review column brought to you by our team of Swim Into The Sound writers and a guest or two. This is a space where we can vent about the things online and in music that have gotten under our skin this past month. Each writer gets a paragraph to bitch about their chosen topic, then once we expel the Haterade from our systems, we all go back to loving music and enjoying art. Speaking of which, if you’re more in the mood for some positivity, here’s a playlist of all this month’s new releases that I enjoyed (or at least found notable) to help you keep up on everything that’s happened in June.

We’re halfway through the year, so let’s get straight to it and leave it all on the field. After all, maybe the back half of 2023 will be better… but I doubt it. 

Don’t Delete Your Songs!!

I started playing in bands during the MySpace era, so I may be especially sensitive to this, but I hate when bands intentionally scrub their early recordings from the internet after releasing a new album. I get it; you want to appear like a brand new band, clean up your online presence and try to make it easy for a new fan to get into. Or maybe you feel embarrassed of those early records; perhaps you’ve outgrown those songs… But I liked those early recordings!! I want to hear your progression as an artist!! 

This brings up a thought that doesn’t feel controversial to me, but clearly, everyone might not agree with; once you make a song and put it out in the wild, it no longer belongs to you. It’s everybody’s, especially anybody with an emotional connection to it. 

A possible alternative to scrubbing your songs off the internet: maybe rebrand your band. A great example of this is the band Now, Now. I like listening to those early Now, Now Every Children records, partially because it’s wild to see a great band grow in change over 15 years. Either way, I want your early records back!! You don’t even have to put them on Spotify, just put them somewhere. I am too scared to pirate music and want to pay you money; please, do me this kindness. I’m not the only one who feels this way.

Ben Sooy – @bensooy


Smith Vs. Smiths

Beatles or Stones? Van Halen or Van Hagar? Blue Album or Pinkerton? There are some age-old debates among music enthusiasts that never get old and are pretty fun to dive into. But let’s please, please, please be done with The Cure versus The Smiths. The two alternative cornerstones are so different and influential in their own right, it’s not fair to compare. For people who hate Morrissey outright, it’s not worth breaching the conversation. But let’s look at the hard facts: The Smiths’ catalog only spans four studio albums, two compilations, and one live album across four years. The Cure have been an active band since 1978, are currently on a massive summer tour, and have released twice the output of The Smiths in proper albums alone. The Smiths, while brilliant and innovative, pretty much stuck to one sound on every song. The Cure have experimented, with some varied results, more than a few times on albums like Kiss Me Kiss Me Kiss Me and Wild Mood Swings. It’s perfectly okay to have a musical preference for one or the other, and it’s important to recognize both of their places in rock history. But neither are “better” than the other, there’s too much different about them.

Logan Archer Mounts – @VERTICALCOFFIN


Defending Your Fave From “Normies”

Call it gatekeeping, call it superiority complex, call it whatever you want, but some fans just plain suck. Last week, a photo of Bad Bunny and Kendall Jenner record shopping went semi-viral. That picture was innocuous enough, but what got me was a quote tweet that simply commanded, “ummmm put that down.” I zoomed in on the image to see that the second-youngest Jenner was holding a vinyl copy of Phoebe Bridgers’ debut album Stranger In The Alps. Man. Funny enough, some people in the comments were quick to point out that Kendall Jenner had posted Boygenius on her Instagram story back in 2018; about as OG of a fan of that band as you can be. I know the original tweet can be written off as a joke, but it still bugs me when people try to exclude someone they view as "unworthy" to be part of their fandom or invalidate someone else's enjoyment of an artist they supposedly love. At this point, Phoebe Bridgers is closer to a pop star than anything, you can’t be revolted when popular people like her popular music. Comparing your love for an artist to someone else’s (or thinking that your adoration is more “legitimate”) is a recipe for disaster. Give me a break, and let people enjoy “Scott Street” in peace.

Taylor Grimes – @GeorgeTaylorG


TV Shows About Great Musicians, Minus Great Music

A few months back, I saw someone tweet something along the lines of “Stevie Nicks walked so Daisy Jones could run.” I’m sorry, STEVIE NICKS WALKED??? So Wattpad Stevie Nicks could RUN????? Look, I get that replicating the magic of what is widely considered one of the greatest bands of all time is a tall order, but if you’re gonna make a show about a band that’s supposed to be a fictional analog to Fleetwood Mac, you gotta at least make the songs good. This doesn’t even sound like if you bought Fleetwood Mac from SHEIN, it sounds like if you bought your uncle’s friend’s Fleetwood Mac cover band from SHEIN. Not to mention the fact that this show’s costume designer seems to have raided Urban Outfitters’ 2015 Coachella collection for the characters’ “70s” looks, or that half the cast has a terminal case of Instagram Face.

While we’re on the topic of TV shows about musicians that feel lightyears removed from the reality of the music industry, Max’s The Idol makes Daisy Jones & The Six look like the fucking Sopranos. The brainchild of the ~twisted minds~ of Sam Levinson and Abel “The Weeknd” Tesfaye has been rife with controversy from the start, from alleged workers’ rights violations to accusations that the show’s content is misogynistic and exploitative. However, the show’s greatest sin seems to lie in its inability to pinpoint exactly what kind of musical stardom they’re trying to represent, and when they fail to do that, whatever critiques they might have of celebrity culture or the music business just kind of free fall without anywhere to land. Who is Jocelyn supposed to be? Throughout the show, she’s presented as a sort of Britney Spears stand-in (in ways that are, frankly, pretty insulting to Britney), but she’s a Gen-Z (or young Millennial) popstar coming up in a post-Britney landscape. She’s billed as a world-famous, boundary-pushing bad girl, but er the song that’s supposed to save her career (titled “World-Class Sinner”) sounds like something you’d stumble upon about five songs deep into Spotify’s algorithmically-generated radio that plays automatically at the end of a Dua Lipa album. Also, as many others have pointed out, what the fuck kind of pop diva mononym is Jocelyn? Apologies to all the Jocelyns out there, but Jocelyn is the name of the girl who restocks perfumes at the Victoria's Secret PINK store in the mall. It’s not the kind of first-name-only-name you’d see lit up Madonna/Rihanna/Beyonce-style for a sold-out stadium show. Moreover, The Idol seems to suck all the fun and opulence out of its portrayals of Hollywood debauchery. The sex scenes are boring. The drug montages are boring. They even managed to make an extravagant Rodeo Drive shopping spree look about as fun and sexy as a consumer report on the five o’clock news.

For now, I think I’ll stick to the Refused and Wilco needle drops in FX’s The Bear.

Grace Robins-Somerville – @grace_roso


Austin’s “Hot Girls Have IBS” Billboard

There is a billboard in East Austin—and yes, I’m aware that it exists in a few other places, but the Austin one is the one I’ve seen with my own eyes AND seen tweets about—that says, “Hot girls have IBS.” The aesthetic is vaguely retro-Microsoft Paint-Y2K, emulating a meme style made popular in the past few years by accounts like @dollarstoremakeup. I’ve seen MULTIPLE people, not just Austinites, post/repost this billboard with great amusement. 

Here’s the thing: ~relatable~ jokes about IBS? Not my cup of meme tea, but whatever. This aesthetic? Again, I think it’s a bit played out, but am I a full-on hater? No. It’s the fact that corporations are harnessing those things to create a successful viral ad campaign that smart, funny people are falling for—TALKING ABOUT, unsponsored, online. Have some fucking self-respect, people! You’re giving this bullshit wellness company exactly what they want: free promotion. It’s giving cringe millennial that doesn’t realize they’re being advertised to. But, of course, the primary target of my hate in this situation is the supplement company. A scourge upon my East Austin journeys, the internet, and, I would assume, bank accounts of the women this kind of advertising is apparently working on so well.

Katie Wojciechowski – @ktewoj


Respecting Others at the Gig 

Although this post is titled “Hater’s Delight,” this is much less me “hating” on these people as it is me calling out these clowns who go to shows and act stupid. One would assume it’s common sense that just because you are at a punk/hardcore show, it does not give you free rein to grab and touch whomever or whatever you’d like. Just over the past month, there have been two notable instances of this happening.

The first one that popped on my radar was a tweet by @hate5six on June 5th. In the post, he attached a video portraying a member of the crowd coming onto the stage and grabbing his camera. In true 300 style, hate5six uses this opportunity to Spartan kick the concert-goer off the stage, as he is 100% right to do. As stated in his tweet, “Play stupid games like having main character syndrome, win stupid prizes.” Despite the usual Twitter discourse that this situation stirred, I think most sane people can agree that you should not touch anybody’s property without consent. 

Speaking of consent, the second instance of cringe buffoonery happened at Heart Attack Man’s Denver concert on June 24th. The band's frontman Eric Egan took to Twitter after the show to apologize for losing his cool after someone went on stage and forcefully attempted to kiss him. Rightfully upset about this, Eric used the mic stand to defend himself. People with little concern for others’ space or property deserve their assed kicked with zero remorse. These same people then act shocked when there are repercussions to their immature actions. In conclusion, having main character syndrome at the gig = likely getting rocked in some way, shape, or form. 

Brandon Cortez – @numetalrev


Terrible Stage Banter

“WHAT THE FUCK IS UP, PITCHFORK?” is followed by the softest acoustic performance I’ve ever heard. It’s the fifth artist of the day to start their set with that tired six-word refrain. At the risk of sounding like a square, let’s talk about the terrible stage banter of indie artists. If you write incredibly interesting, creative, and thoughtful music, please, for the love of the English language, stop opening your set like you’re band 3 of 7 at a Denny’s All-American-High School-Mosh-Fest.

We get it; you’re “edgy.” Congrats. If you actually want to go against the grain, say something different to introduce your set. Allow your stage banter to be as interesting as your music. Have a catchphrase. Make a joke. Tell everyone you’re U2. Make up a fake band name. Just stop starting your festival set with that cliché, profanity-laced rhetorical question.

Here are a few intro lines I’ve heard/used at shows with some success. Feel free to steal one:

  • “How’s everyone’s pandemic going?”

  • “Good evening. My name is [your name here], what’s your name? (play loud guitar part as the crowd confusingly answers at the same time).”

  • “Are you ready for some soft rock?!?” (to the tune of Hank William’s Monday Night Football song)

  • “We’re all going to die.”

 Jack Droppers - @jackdroppers


Left Behind

In 2010, my middle school theater teacher shared her theory for why Taylor Swift was becoming so popular. She told us that Taylor’s voice was light, easy, and refreshing compared to the bombastic voices of pop stars in the 2000s. I might be the only person from that class who remembers our teacher saying that, and I remember it because that was the first time I had ever been prompted to think about music beyond “I like” or “I don’t like.” Also, I remember what my teacher said that day because I still cannot understand why I am unable to breathe in the same fresh air (Taylor Swift) that others around me seem to be luxuriating in. I am a person who likes to love things, and during this month, I have become increasingly bothered by my inability to love Taylor Swift. What made sense to be seen as refreshing in 2010 has long since felt tired and unchanging to me. Her songs have too many words in them – my friend Rose said this, and I haven’t stopped thinking about it because she put words to what I feel every time I listen to Ms. Swift’s work. The Eras Tour has been a tough time for me, mainly because I cannot join in on the fun.

Kirby Kluth – @kirbykluth

Hater's Delight – April 2023

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April is a useless month for useless people. You’ve got Easter (I guess), taxes, and a holiday for stoners, all of which combine with some of the year’s most temperamental weather to make for an absolutely miserable stretch of 30 days. At least spring will be here soon, and we can all be unhappy in slightly warmer weather. 

If you’re just now joining us for the first time, Hater’s Delight is a monthly micro-review column brought to you by our team of Swim Into The Sound writers and a guest or two. This is a space where we can vent about the things online and in music that have gotten under our skin this past month. Each writer gets a paragraph to bitch about their chosen topic, then once we expel the Haterade from our systems, we all go back to loving music and enjoying art. Speaking of which, if you’re more in the mood for some positivity, here’s a playlist of all this month’s new releases that I enjoyed (or at least found notable) to help you keep up on everything that’s happened in April. 

Without further ado, let’s get all our complaints about April out before we flip the calendars over. 

BOYGENIUS

Each of these artists makes decent-to-middling pop-rock on their own time (Dacus decent, Baker between, Bridgers middling); that they must also fill my social media feed as a unit is frankly a waste of both my time as a viewer and your time as a poster. With such a massive profile (and a guaranteed sold-out arena tour arranged by their "not-so" major record label with ex-indie cred), the discourse is superfluous. "The Record" was never going to be a "flop." The stans (their parents?) will sell the vinyl out, sell the t-shirt out, sell the shows out, etc., regardless of lyrical fumbles, repetitive themes, poorly sequenced tracks, or cloyingly sweet marketing. There is no worthwhile angle regarding this fucking band. You can listen to it, but I wanna fucking talk about something else. (People who talked about it well: Miranda Reinert, as always, and SITS’ own Grace Robins-Somerville.)

SUB-HATE:
To the writer who dissed “Girls” by The Dare last month: I hope you never feel the loving touch of a woman. Song rocks – officially signed and endorsed by a lesbian.

Mikey Montoni – @dumpsterbassist 


Trippin’ On The Name Of A Metal Fest

Let me preface this by saying that I love the Texas band Power Trip just like any other hesher. Riley Gale (RIP) was undeniably one of the most iconic frontmen of his era. The remaining members of Power Trip have been fairly quiet since Riley’s passing, other than the exciting new band Fugitive featuring guitarist Blake Ibanez. But the band has had quite a bit of coverage in the first weeks of April. They announced the physical release of their Live In Seattle album, to many fans’ underwhelm, and simply tweeted out “no” in response to the Power Trip festival announcement featuring AC/DC, Guns N’ Roses, Iron Maiden, Metallica, Ozzy Osbourne, and Tool. Many Power Trip band diehards came to the band’s defense, but let’s take this seriously for a moment. The likely realities of the situation are: 1) the people who put this thing together have never heard of Power Trip, the band. 2) Other than being a common idiom where they got their name, “Power Trip” has been used in heavy music for decades before the band you know the most. Cleveland metal outfit Chimaira released a song called “Power Trip” in 2004, stoner rock luminaries Monster Magnet had their Powertrip album in 1998, and there was even an ‘80s band in Power Trip’s exact subgenre (“crossover,” combining elements of hardcore punk and thrash metal) called Powertrip featuring members of underground LA punk bands Angry Samoans and Würm. So, to the hardcore kids that not only wouldn’t go to the Power Trip festival anyway, but likely couldn’t afford it either, there’s nothing to trip about here. 

SUB-HATE:
Hardcore bands, let’s retire the tradition of one-word band names. It was easier in the ‘80s and ‘90s when you just banked on someone else not having your name idea. Now you can very easily do a Google or Discogs search. California band Fury is the 28th known artist with that name, for fuck’s sake. Find something that stands out. 

Logan Archer Mounts – @VERTICALCOFFIN


People on Music Twitter Pretending to Hate Music Twitter Discourse

Like everyone else who contributes to this column and everyone who reads it (yes, that includes you), I spend a lot of time (definitely too much time) talking about music on Twitter. There’s this pattern– especially in online forums that are simultaneously fragmented and insular –of everyone getting thrown into a tizzy over a bad-faith comment, a bad-faith reading of a good-faith comment, a divisive issue, an actually-not-that-divisive issue, a hot take, a cold take, a lukewarm take, etc; talking it to death, and then complaining about the people who are talking it to death. And don’t get me wrong, I’ve read enough insipid online music drama to turn my brain into a slushie, but don’t pretend to hate the discourse while you eat it up like the little piggy that you are. Or, in between two stupid discourse cycles, complain about how Twitter is “boring now,” barely betraying your need for more ragebait. Either admit to yourself that part of you likes getting mad online (again, why do you think this column exists?) or take a walk outside without your phone for a few minutes (ever the multitude-container, I did BOTH of these things just today and I feel FUCKING GREAT). 

Bottom Line: Don’t go to the circus for news and get mad when you hear it from clowns. You love this shit. 

Grace Robins-Somerville – @grace_roso


The Big Re-Do

If you were to ask me what my favorite Drive-By Truckers song is, I’m sure I’d have different answers depending on my mood or the season, but usually, I say “Puttin’ People on The Moon” from their opus, The Dirty South. Hood’s raspy voice and strong storytelling portray a character driven to crime by a hostile political hellscape. The song felt powerful in 2004 but feels even more necessary 20 years later. Now, Drive-By Truckers are reissuing a “director’s cut” of The Dirty South, with additional songs left off the record and some new recordings. This brings me to my issue—they have re-recorded the vocals of “Puttin’ People on The Moon,” and they’ve made it worse.

Don’t get me wrong, every artist has the right to do whatever they want with their work, but DBT are calling this version of “Puttin’ People on The Moon” definitive? Hood’s vocal take 20 years ago is nasally and raspy, yet full of desperation, anger, and anxiety. He is fully embodying the character he is portraying. Though Hood’s voice is still strong two decades later, there is no improvement found on this reworked version. If anything, the confident and cleaner vocal take (still raspy, less nasally) softens the blow of the song’s message. All this is to say I don’t think I can justify the $46 for the director’s cut of one of my favorite albums. I’m reminded of the 1990s George Lucas Star Wars edits or Donnie Darkos’ director’s cut. You’ve maybe added some deleted scenes, but you’ve touched up the practical effects with CGI, and it sticks out like a sore thumb. 

Russ Finn – @RussFinn


Closing songs as singles 

You want to know what I do whenever I start a new book? First, I find a nice, quiet place where I can read undisturbed. Then I sit down, crack the book open, and read the very last chapter. Just kidding, I don’t do that because I’m not a fucking psychopath. Why, then, are some bands so insistent on releasing the final song from their album as a single? It happened a few times this month, including one of my all-time favorite bands (who will remain unnamed), and the song wasn’t even that good! I mean, theoretically, shouldn’t the last song be a sort of big, anthemic closer that sends off the whole release? A summation of every track that came before it? Your big final number? Why would you want to drop that song weeks before people can hear it as intended? Obviously, not every album is a sequential story that you can “spoil” the same way you would with a book, but I don’t understand the logic of releasing a song like that by itself. The artist likely spent months creating, recording, and sequencing these songs, so why give away your final curtain call before people have even had a chance to enjoy the whole thing? This is really only a problem for dorks like me who keep up with singles as bands release them, but even for a casual fan, there’s gotta be some sense of letdown if you get to the end of your favorite artist’s new album and your first reaction is “I’ve already heard this one.” Let’s plan out our singles a little better, people. 

Taylor Grimes – @GeorgeTaylorG


Expecting Anything Of A Band

Frank Ocean – Have you heard of this guy? He had a whole ice rink, and some other stuff happened during his performance at some festival in Indio, CA, a few weeks back. A lot of people got very upset that Frank Ocean’s whole Coachella performance was slapdash and “not what [they] paid for.” Bro, you paid for a weekend of debauchery under the guise of attending a music festival! Did you think everything was going to go exactly to plan? What happens when something else in your life goes a little haywire? Do you check the receipt and ask to speak to the manager? Even worse than that, I saw complaints that Frank didn’t play specific songs! *whiny suburban music nerd voice* “Oh man, can you believe he didn’t play (deep unreleased cut from the Nostalgia Ultra era that I found on Tumblr in 2012)??” YES. YES, I CAN. He probably doesn’t remember the lyrics to a song that he threw aside 11 years ago. This isn’t your show, and you are NOT the main character for every event you pay money to see! Every time you pay for a ticket to a show, you are rolling the dice that something could go poorly. The smoke alarm could get set off by a fog machine, your favorite artist could get food poisoning, you could get an imposter instead of MF DOOM. All of these things are possible, and you hope they don’t happen, but sometimes it does not meet your expectations. Doesn’t that make the story a little more fun to you? It is more interesting to say, “I was at the Snowing reunion show where John Galm got pissed and spiked his bass into the ground,” than, “Oh yeah, I saw Snowing one time. Pretty good band!” Buy the ticket, enjoy the ride.

Jay Papandreas  – @listenupnerds

Hater's Delight – March 2023

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We’ve reached the end of March. Or, as I (a guy with a music blog) like to call it, “the end of Q1.” *pushes glasses up nose* That means this month, we’ve been treated to clumsy attempts at “important” albums from big-name indie acts, tasteless tour announcements from talentless hacks, and desperate swings from pop stars for an early bid at the “song of the summer.” In short, there has been no shortage of things to hate, but hey, at least the year is a quarter over, right?

If you’re joining us for the first time, Hater’s Delight is a micro-review column brought to you by our team of Swim Into The Sound writers and a guest or two. This is a space where we can vent about the things online and in music that have gotten under our skin this past month. Each writer gets a paragraph or two to bitch about their chosen topic, then once we expel the Haterade from our systems, we all go back to loving music and enjoying art. Speaking of which, if you’re more in the mood for some positivity, here’s a playlist of all this month’s new releases that I enjoyed (or at least found notable) to help you keep up on everything that’s happened in March. 

Now, let’s drive a stake into the heart of March with another edition of Hater’s Delight.

“Mother” by Meghan Trainor 

I was reluctant to write about Meghan Trainor’s new song since it’s the easiest possible target, and everyone on my timeline has already torn it to shreds, but I can’t get it off my mind. With every second I listened, I kept thinking, “This can’t possibly get any worse,” and then, somehow, it would. Meghan’s really hit all her bases with this one: a clumsy and utterly sexless attempt at 2010s-era horny girlboss pop, TJ Maxx spring sale commercial production, the word “mansplaining” sung in a white lady riff, vague gesturing towards a possible Oedipal complex, a Mr. Sandman interpolation straight out of the Leah Kate school of songwriting, “You Need To Calm Down”-levels of shameless LGBTQ pandering (though I guess Meghan didn’t have the budget to hire RuPaul or Ellen Degeneres or anyone else from the Middle America-approved list of people who come up when you Google “gay celebrities,” so she had to settle for having two random twinks pop up in the background at the end of every line like Oompa Loompas). 

“Mother” is a once-in-a-lifetime dud, a perfect storm of horribleness that’s frankly impressive. It’s not easy to make a good pop song, but it’s also not easy to make a pop song that sucks this bad. It’s almost inspiring to see someone flop so spectacularly, I kinda gotta hand it to her. 

Grace Robins-Somerville – @grace_roso


Donn’t Namee Youur Bannd Liike Thiss

As a longtime metalhead, I’m used to the best bands of the genre forgoing conventional spelling. Kreator, Megadeth, Mötley Crüe, the list goes on. Even going back to two of the biggest bands of all time, The Beatles and Led Zeppelin, improper spelling in rock’n’roll is canon at this point. But there’s a new trend I’m seeing more and more lately that I just don’t understand: adding extras of the same letter where one is not needed. Caamp, Miirrors, Siiickbrain, Slayyyter. I thought we were past this with Miike Snow and Wavves. Run For Cover Records has TWO current signees in this vein, Lannds and Runnner (seriously, how many N’s does this label need?). Both are relatively inoffensive bands musically but frustrating to Google or to recommend. All these bands have to live with their word-of-mouth promotion having a qualifier, “but with (x amount of letters) instead of the usual amount.” Seems counterproductive. While we’re at it, no more family band names (I’m looking at you, Great Grandpa and Grandson).

Logan Archer Mounts – @VERTICALCOFFIN


LEAVE PINKPANTHERESS ALONE

I’d like to preface this by saying that I’m old. I’m turning 30 this year, and PinkPantheress as an entity has only entered my life recently with the inescapable Ice Spice-assisted “Boys a liar Pt. 2” From what I understand, she’s a buzzy bedroom pop artist who blew up on TikTok thanks to her image, occasionally catchy tunes, and reverence for late-90s and early 2000s aesthetics. A few weeks ago, a tweet showcasing a particularly unenthusiastic PinkPantheress performance went viral. First off, she was (allegedly) paid just $250 for the concert. That’s issue number one, fuck SXSW, how little they pay artists, how they let the literal feds into attendance, and their lack of oversight allows creeps to run wild. But I’d like to talk specifically about people criticizing PinkPantheress for a litany of petty grievances. “She had her purse on her during the performance!” Gimmie a break. “She used a backing track!” So does every other pop star. Most egregious was the criticism that “she’s giving us nothing,” to which I say go back and watch that video… the CROWD was giving her nothing. She’s performing a song with nearly 300 million streams on Spotify, and I don’t see a single person moving. How’s an artist expected to give a decent performance when every single attendee in the audience is motionless, staring at their phone, trying to capture the moment for their own social media account? This is neither a defense of PinkPantheress nor a condemnation of SXSW; this is saying if me saying if you are a shitty crowd, you can’t give the artist too much shit for doing the bare minimum. Dance, bob your head, and move around. Be better. 

Taylor Grimes – @GeorgeTaylorG


Missed Opportunities - U2’s Songs of Surrender

U2 are a pillar of my musical identity. They were the first concert I went to. All That You Can’t Leave Behind was one of the first CDs I remember buying. Hell, I even took a class about them during my freshman year of college. I haven’t liked much of their output since No Line on the Horizon (it’s a good album, fight me), but I was intrigued when I heard they were releasing Songs of Surrender, a compilation of reinterpretations from their catalog. I thought it had the potential to have a ceiling of being really cool and a floor of being interesting. I was wrong. Songs of Surrender is neither of these things. Songs of Surrender is deeply boring. All forty songs are relatively stripped down, presented as Tiny-Desk-core singalongs. For some of the tracks, this would be a natural reimagination; think “Who’s Gonna Ride Your Wild Horses” and “Stay (Faraway, So Close!),” but when each song is in this style, it loses effect rapidly. Bono also does that thing he does in concert, where he adds new lyrics that (to him) might seem profound but mostly come off as wincingly embarrassing. I’m not sure if I’m disappointed in Bono and the boys or if I’m disappointed in myself for getting my hopes up. If you need me, I’ll be listening to my Zooropa CD in my car.

Connor Fitzpatrick – @cultofcondor


It’s A “Good Time” To End This Whole Indie Sleaze Revival Thing

I wasn’t always so against this attempted revival of the manufactured indie sleaze movement. Crystal Castles were one of the first “indie” acts I ever got into, and I love plenty of music from LCD Soundsystem, The Rapture, and Interpol, bands/artists from the early 2000s NY scene that have largely inspired where we’re currently at. But upon hearing The Dare’s “Girls” too many times at cramped bars and venue PA systems, I had enough of this fucking guy. His smug aura mocked me. But now it looks like the major labels are placing their bets on this indie sleaze revival, with The Dare being their top prospect with his signing to UMG and the release of his follow-up single “Good Time,” which is actually, in fact, a bad time! While the lyrical content of “Girls” was groan-worthy, at least there was a solid tune behind it. But “Good Time” is uninspired, as it so clearly tries to bite from Peaches’ “Fuck The Pain Away” but squeezes every bit of charm that song has. It could be worse though, as we’ll see if the industry tries to make Blaketheman1000 happen for real. Now that’s a truly untalented hack!

Matty Monroe – @MonrovianPrince


Using the Merch Table When the Band Isn’t There

More and more music workers are taking the opportunity to advocate for ourselves at gigs; we’re meeting the moment with reasonable requests, some relational, some systematic, all hand-in-hand with an appreciation of connecting in our shared meatspace again after years of the virtual. Here’s my lil’ addition, a pet peeve, to the choir, typed out between stops on my first post-lockdown run of shows: Please wait until I get back to the merch table before you buy my merch.

I really, really, love that you want to directly support me and bring home a token of a night we shared. It’s a small miracle! However, finding a few dollars underneath the sign that says, “Please wait until Andy’s back for merch!” or getting an unexpected Venmo notification while loading out, only to come back and find a shirt missing, rubs me the wrong way. At its most forgiving, it’s an “Oh, sorry, I wanted to grab a button, and you weren’t there” kinda deal. At its most cynical, it can become a slight, cold reminder of our transactional relationship.

Even barring the fact that I’m more conscious than ever of how touring finances move, it’s preventing an invaluable conversation that has become rarer in these pandemic times: a minute or two where you and I, across a [always… sticky??] table filled with stickers and Sharpie-written, “pay what you can” dollar amounts, get to push air – sure, from behind an N95 or two – and shape it into the form of “Thank you for stopping by!!!”

In other words, in-person networking. Just kidding. Haha ha.

Please… don’t fall into the trappings of an anonymous consumer. Let me know you’re here with me, and I’ll do the same for you. Or, at the very least, give me a heads-up before you grab a size large, black tee.

Andy Waldron – @ndyjwaldron