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.

Home Is Where – Hunting Season | Album Review

Wax Bodega

Until recently, Home Is Where’s bio across streaming services read simply, “our band could be yr neighborhood.” It was a fun play on a classic Minutemen line that gave an entire book on indie rock its title, but together with the band’s name, it always resonated more as a mission statement. This is hardly a surprise: both myself and all four members of the group are from Florida, and I cannot think of a rock band that has rendered the Southeastern United States with such pinpoint accuracy. Whenever I’m listening to the whaler, I can practically feel the August humidity pasting my shirt to my back while I mow my mother’s lawn at 9 am. The line “Grass scabs over cracks in your driveway” from “Sewn Together from the Membrane of the Great Sea Cucumber” could have been written while staring at my old carport torn up by tree roots. 

That detail is just one example of lead singer and songwriter Bea MacDonald’s keen eye for the grotesque sutures holding 21st-century southern life together. Animal carcasses, the living dead, and brutally functional man-made structures dominate the imagery of the band’s first two records; part body horror and part post-apocalypse in their depictions of her home state. She’s acutely aware of the sins and contradictions foundational to certain subsets of the cultural landscape of America, but there’s an effort to understand in MacDonald’s writing that many would-be critics stop short of. Even as a trans woman alienated from her home by its government, there’s a warmth at war with the ugliness on display in her songs. That conflict is the beating heart of Hunting Season, guiding Home Is Where through their most winding, sensitive, and tangibly southern set of songs yet. Well, that and 13 different Elvis Presley impersonators’ lives flashing before their eyes as they die in the same massive car wreck. 

If you’re confused on that last bit, don’t worry: Home Is Where have never been ones to let an outlandish concept interfere with their visceral emotional punch. “artificial grass” is the only track to name-drop the King of Rock ‘n’ Roll outright, but the focus is still on the pretender to the throne’s identity crisis and his dying revelation that “every king is a thief.” It’s also the only moment on the record where MacDonald’s scream is front and center, relying more than ever on her natural drawl to wring the emotion from these songs. For the majority of the record, guitarist Tilley Komorny trades emo tapping and fiery post-hardcore riffs for delicate pedal steel and fleet-fingered acoustic strumming. Even the electric tracks like lead single “migration patterns” have more in common with The Band or alt-country darlings Wednesday than they do with the band’s emo peers. This is by no means a betrayal of their scene: if anything, Hunting Season is the most themselves Home Is Where have ever been. 

Photo by Texas Smith

The album offsets all these new sounds with a slew of recurring motifs from throughout the band’s catalog. Opening track “reptile house” echoes the whaler in both its folk-heavy sound and gruesome imagery, with fatal car crashes and suburban decay standing in sharp relief to the natural order. MacDonald literally self-immolates in a haunting refrain before once again bemoaning Western civilization’s unwillingness to let things die. “The end of the world is taking forever” from “daytona 500” has been simplified to the passive, “Oh! The end goes on and on and on,” as the band plays her out. It’s not the cheeriest start, but MacDonald spends the record’s thirteen songs scanning the most hostile backroads and small towns for signs of happiness, however hard their surroundings try to snuff that joy out. 

Throughout Hunting Season, MacDonald identifies with drifters wandering through scenes of an American dream melted like plastic in the sun. “milk & diesel” features a philosophical exchange on memory and meaninglessness between two of history’s most infamous traitors, Pat Garrett and Judas himself, while “mechanical bull” sees MacDonald share her own take on meeting the devil at a crossroads. Tales of cowboys and outlaws have long brought comfort or at least a sense of self to those in exile, and that holds true even a quarter of the way through the 21st century. Many across the country, including MacDonald and Komorny, have been forced to either live a lie or leave the states where they were born and raised thanks to increasingly aggressive anti-trans legislation. When the former sings, “No matter where you go, you’re still on the run” on “the wolf man,” it’s enough to make someone whose own migration was more intentional feel a sting of homesickness. 

Only someone who truly loves Florida could describe the state in all its strange glory. Everything from discarded McDonald’s bags, fire & brimstone billboards, and a gorilla advertising a Harley Davidson sale litter the medians of the album’s highway. It seems absurd or alien on paper, but each one of these sights reminds me of the biannual 8-hour drives down I-75 my family would make to Tampa for holidays. MacDonald describes these scenes with the same detached mix of wonder and bewilderment as a ten-year-old child viewing them from a backseat window, but also the fondness of an adult who’s lived around them, left, and come back. “stand-up special” captures these bittersweet memories like mosquitoes in sap, with Bea’s voice backed up by Shannon Taylor of awakebutstillinbed as they get stuck within their own warped scenes of Americana. The band glides through the song’s folksy bounce, halting only to devastate at the end with the revelation, “I’ve been exploding my whole life!” 

If anything keeps the record’s spirits high, though, it’s Home Is Where’s unified efforts as a band to make the most impassioned and close-to-home music of their lives. Both “stand-up special” and its sister track right before, “black metal mormon,” are such breezes to listen to that it’s hard for my face not to break into a soft smile while listening. The embrace of songs structured around a strong chorus leads to some of the sweetest melodies the band has offered yet. “shenandoah” is a gorgeous torch song and the most direct nod yet to the band’s longtime muse Bob Dylan, harmonica and all. Even a song as layered in its heartbreak as “milk & diesel” gives Komorny the space to rip a solo worthy of Neil Young himself. The most furious jam comes on “roll tide,” a steady, slow burn more than half the length of the band’s first album. It begins slow and sparse, gradually building into a wall of dissonant guitars, rolling drums, and wordless shouts before unraveling into vocal samples by the very end. 

The track was also the most impenetrable on the record to me. Not due to its length or a lack of hooks - the humming of the titular phrase was one of the first things from the record to get properly lodged in my brain - but maybe because of just how much I’ve heard those words. I spent my middle and high school years in Alabama, and I can’t tell you how many hundreds of times I heard “roll tide!” spoken, spat out, or screamed by devout college football fans during that time. It was meant as a rallying cry, but I could only register it as an ominous sign of domination. That perspective made this penultimate track read more as a dirge, and to be quite honest, for as good as the song is, it bummed me out. It wasn’t until several listens in that the verses began to reshape it for me.

I saw how the wind blew through
The trees and the leaves and the fruit
Were not moved

Well, it dawns on me, it’s late enough
To call it morning; all we need
Is the light

These images paint a picture of perseverance and, if you dare, hope. In southern vernacular, ‘roll tide’ has outgrown its place as a sports team’s trademarked battle cry: it’s used to mean everything from “have a good day” to “keep carrying on.” So much so that during a recent visit with family, my partner, who grew up on the West Coast, was completely lost hearing it for the first time. I’m choosing to believe MacDonald has appropriated it further as a call of queer resilience in the places where it’s needed most and people understand it the least. If nothing else, this band got me to join in a chant of “roll tide” for the first time in my life, and that’s a miracle in and of itself. 

For all the death, destruction, and bitter memories within, Hunting Season is not a record that wallows in defeat. Home Is Where identify resistance and community as the only ways forward, so we may as well all be from the same neighborhood. They kicked us out of the old one. To quote the coda that the band finally etched into wax in the final moments of the record: “Home Is Where forever.”


Wes Cochran is a Portland-based writer, worker, and listener. You can find them @wacochran on Instagram, via their email electricalmess@gmail.com, or navelgazing their way up and down South Portland.

The Best of Q2 2023

Even though we’re halfway through, 2023 has been a hard year to define. As news cycles speed up, discourse spins out, and “content” mounts faster than anyone can realistically engage with it, staying up-to-date on new music can feel overwhelming. That’s where we come in. 

Our team of passionate freaks writers are the types of people to comb through new releases every Friday in search of their next obsession. We have playlists and last.fm charts and Topsters and rankings. We have albums we love that we want you to love too, and that’s what this article is for. Just as we did back in April, we will round up our favorite albums and EPs of the last few months so you can see what we’ve been obsessing over lately. Hope you find something new to obsess over.


billy woods, Kenny Segal - Maps

Backwoodz Studioz

To describe billy woods’s quasi-concept album as “all over the place” might initially come off as an insult, but I mean it in the most complimentary and, on some levels, literal way possible. Part-travel diary, part-anthropological exploration, Maps just might be woods’s most accessible yet ambitious work to date. “No Reservations, walked in like Bourdain,” he boasts on “The Layover,” shouting out the late celebrity chef and documentarian and nodding to how both Bourdain and woods himself view travel as an immersive practice. In the same track, woods’ trip to California isn’t a vacation– it’s a chance to convene with the past, complete with lyrical dues paid to both LL Cool J and the Black Panther Party. “Babylon By Bus” rolls out personal and world history on one long, non-linear timeline, deftly hopping from the 2011 NBA Championship to the Russian Revolution to 9/11 to the passing of woods’ grandmother. “Year Zero” pulls back the spatial and temporal lens even further, chronicling the dawn of man to the decay of the present in just a few bars (“Apes stood and walked into the future / March of progress end hunchbacked in front the computer / Sooner or later it’s gon’ be two unrelated active shooters / Same place, same time, great minds”). While the vastness of woods’ pen game on Maps is pretty sublime, some of his most striking moments are when he gets down to the small-scale specificities, particularly on the record’s back half– “NYC Tapwater” is the bittersweet comedown from life on tour, the comforts of his home city are inextricable from the past traumas it bears witness to and constantly under the threat of being paved over by the continuous march of gentrification; on “As The Crow Flies,” the homecoming narrative concludes with a scene of woods and his son, a reckoning with the responsibilities of fatherhood and the tandem joys and fears that come with it (“I’m at the park with the baby on the swings / When it hits me crazy, anything at all could happen to him”). billy woods can fit a whole world into a record, and it’s a blessing that we get to watch it spin.

– Grace Robins-Somerville


Bully – Lucky For You

Sub Pop Records

Based solely on 2020’s SUGAREGG, I already knew I’d love whatever Bully did next. What I didn’t expect was a raucous half-hour of pitch-perfect 2000s alt-rock featuring some of the most energetic hooks I’ve heard all year. First, she reeled me in with a Soccer Mommy-assisted lead single, then she hit us with the sunny “Days Move Slow” and followed that with the fuckup anthem “Hard to Love.” One by one, each single surpassed the previous, all culminating in Lucky For You, an album that captures the boundless exuberance of the last day of school. Much like Momma, PONY, or Charly Bliss, Bully’s Alicia Bognanno doesn’t shy away from a realistic portrayal of herself. She’s kind of a loser, she has fucked up, and she owns all that. Turns out putting that kind of honesty to fuzzy power chords and raspy choruses makes them feel all the more triumphant. 

– Taylor Grimes


Clearbody – Bend Into a Blur

Self-Released

If you were to distill my love for shoegaze into just a handful of styles, you’d likely wind up with the collection of five songs that make up Bend Into a Blur. You’ve got clear love for giants of the genre like Hum and Nothing alongside screamy doom shit and high-energy bops, all of which work into the genre from different angles for a release that’s succinct and singular. Tracks like “This Can’t Leave Us” sink their hooks into you by building up to their title in the most anguishing but beautiful ways; meanwhile, “Cordelia” feels tailor-made for windows-down summer drives and late-nite smoke sessions alike. For a genre that can so easily feel stale and repetitious, Clearbody manage to make the “gaze” suffix feel exciting, diverse, and exploratory. 

– Taylor Grimes

Read our review of “Cordelia” here.


Cory Hanson – Western Cum

Drag City Inc.

Let’s get it out of the way up top: Western Cum is a very funny name. The title for Cory Hanson’s third album is a signal flare that he doesn’t take this too seriously, but the music tells a different story. Hanson’s latest record follows a similar format to 2021’s Pale Horse Rider (one of our favorites of that year), featuring a batch of a half-dozen barn burners and one 10-minute psychedelic expedition placed at the penultimate spot on the tracklist. Western Cum also sees Hanson cranking up the Zeppelin worship tenfold for classic rock songs that range in scale from that of a housefly to a haunted ghost ship. As these desert mirages materialize and pass by the listener, it’s hard not to get swept up in the majesty of it all.

– Taylor Grimes


Easy Beach – Easy Beach

We’re Trying Records & Sleepy Clown Records

To some degree, people are right to groan about emo music. You’re right to roll your eyes at silly song titles, formulaic tapping, and uninspired singing, but at the same time, you gotta hand it to ‘em when people in this genre do something right, and Easy Beach’s self-titled record is emo done right. For an album that dropped on 4/20 and has song titles like “Elliott Spliff” and “Everbong,” it might seem easy to assume Easy Beach is “weedmo,” but that couldn’t be further from the truth. Easy Beach may be an emo band, and they may even smoke weed, but their music is actually closer to groups like Ovlov, LVL UP, or Truth Club than Mom Jeans and Prince Daddy. In just 23 minutes, this band constructs a thrashy style of punk rock that pummels you like a brick to the face… if being pummelled by a brick to the face was somehow catchy. There’s still a little bit of emo guitar tapping, but overall, this band seems much more concerned with making shreddy punk music fit for diving headfirst into the pit. Easy Beach is jam-packed with rambunctious energy and shout-along bangers with a well-placed interlude or two to help you catch your breath. If sweat isn’t dripping from your pores by the time the rapturous horns of “Sleep” roll around, then you’re listening wrong. 

– Taylor Grimes


EXIT ELECTRONICS – BELIEVE ANYTHING, BELIEVE EVERYTHING

Avalanche

Okay, so teeeeechnically, this album was released about a week before our Q1 list went up. But I didn’t hear it until the beginning of June, so I’m including it here. I wanted to give a full-length review on the new Godflesh album PURGE (which rips), but the time didn’t work in my favor. Instead, I’m here to shout out the new EXIT ELECTRONICS album, one of the many monikers and side projects of Godflesh mastermind Justin K. Broadrick. BELIEVE ANYTHING is 45 minutes of obnoxious, distorted, bass-heavy music that is so in my lane, it’s surprising I didn’t hear it until after I recorded my last album of similar material. Broadrick has been an electronic and industrial maestro since the late ‘80s between Godflesh, Techno Animal, and Jesu, just to name a few. This is easily some of the most advanced and intense music he’s ever done; it’s like a burned CD of 128kbps Limewire MP3s skipping in the player of a 2003 Pontiac Sunfire. I assure you that’s a compliment.

— Logan Archer Mounts


Feeble Little Horse – Girl with Fish

Saddle Creek

The first time I listened to Girl with Fish was idyllic… not necessarily befitting to the music, but memorable nonetheless. It had been a bright summer day here in Portland, but by the evening, a batch of clouds had rolled in, making for a broody, overcast mood that marked the end to a weeks-long period of perfectly sunny weather. It was about 8:30 and still bright out despite the grey clouds now populating the sky. I decided to go for a walk to expend the rest of my energy and enjoy the last little bit of light we had left. By the time I had reached a nearby park, the clouds had started to spit ever so lightly, raining just enough to feel a cooling droplet every few seconds but not enough to need a jacket or an umbrella. I looked at my phone and realized it was just past 9 pm, meaning all the Friday new releases were now available to listen to here on the west coast. I navigated straight to Feeble Little Horse’s artist page and pressed play on their sophomore LP, which I had been anticipating for the better part of the year. As I walked around this park and nearby neighborhoods soundtracked by the off-kilter rock tunes, I inhaled deeply, taking in the smell of rain on hot pavement, a sense I hadn’t experienced much in my previous home of Denver. As the freaky, horny, warbly songs played out, I found myself firmly in the present. I didn’t know what was coming next in this album or my life, and for 26 minutes and 6 seconds, I found that incredibly freeing.

– Taylor Grimes


Frog Legs – It’s Been a Hard Year

Rabbit Snail Records

I’ve been listening to punk rock for a really, really, really long time. So long, in fact, that I have kind of a complex relationship to it– although punk is great, I often can’t find myself reaching for my Misfits records when it comes time to kick back with a beer and decompress. It’s just too… one-note these days. The novelty of sonic rebellion has long worn off, and only the truly time-tested punk music can make it through to my daily rotation of knotty emo-core, crusty d-beat and hardcore, stripped-back folk music, densely arranged power pop, and soaring jam-band indebted indie rock. All that changed two years ago when I was introduced to Frog Legs, a band of folk-punk rookies with bright eyes and big attitudes led by singer/bassist/songwriter Nano Siegert-Wilkinson. 

Their first EP was straight-up folk punk in the best way– sugary sweet punk rippers played with acoustic instruments at blistering tempos. On It’s Been a Hard Year, though, her ambitions spread beyond the realm of traditional folk-punk and bloom into enormous Springsteen singalong C-sections (“Motorcycle!”), lackadaisical power pop jams (“The Worst McDonalds Ever (Pts. 1 & 2)”), propulsive and neurotic rock (“Fear and Loathing in South Oakland”), and even tender bluegrass ballads (“Livestock” and “Moth Song”). Despite these musical departures from the raspy acoustic punk we’ve all come to know and meme, it’s impossible to forget that this is a Folk Punk Album. Every song oozes directionless rage and exhaustion via grisly and misanthropic metaphor (“It will bleed me til I'm dry / make a leather coach bag out of my hide”) or an unflinching, almost impolite directness (“Sometimes bad things happen just because”). It’s an emotionally arresting piece of art that will define the genre for years and might even succeed at Siegert-Wilkinson’s oft-stated goal of “bringing folk punk back to Pittsburgh, baby.” 

– Mikey Montoni


Frozen Soul – Glacial Domination

Century Media

Remember that one time Texas got too cold? Fort Worth’s iciest band, Frozen Soul, makes sure you’ll never forget. Glacial Domination is an avalanche-caliber crushing death metal LP that stays frozen on repeat. With features from Dying Fetus’ John Gallagher, Trivium’s Matt Heafy, and electro-metal duo GosT, the band delivers one anthemic, bicep-flexing, frost-biting track after another. This group may as well have called themselves something like Cold Thrower or Snowbituary.

— Logan Archer Mounts


Greg Mendez – Greg Mendez

For about a month, I listened to Greg Mendez’s self-titled record and couldn’t shake the phrase “Diet Alex G.” That’s a misnomer for a couple of reasons, sure Mendez’s voice sounds shockingly similar at times, but “diet” implies that it’s somehow lesser. In reality, Greg Mendez is a precious and careful folk album that weaves together nine deeply intricate tales into a compact 23-minute package. Standing shoulder to shoulder with the new albums from Ther and Infinity Crush, Mendez has created an honest and truly beautiful album that has rightfully placed him at the forefront of an already bustling Philadelphia music scene. With songs as brilliant as “Maria” in his holster, it’s only a matter of time before he ascends the rungs of the indie rock world into a strata all his own.

– Taylor Grimes


HMLTD – The Worm

Lucky Number

England hits another post-punk home run with the latest album from HMLTD (fka Happy Meal Ltd., ceased and desisted for obvious reasons). The Worm is an experimental, imperialistic, sci-fi concept record that begs one question: “Would you still love me if I was a worm?” At least, in this case, the worm is taking over an apocalyptic London like the plague, and the album tells the story of the townspeople’s experiences. It’s a danceable, oddball record that showcases the band at their strongest. Fans of Black Country New Road, King Gizzard And The Lizard Wizard, or Squid should be sure to take note of this one. And not just because lizards and squids are in the worm family (follow-up: I do not know this to be true).

— Logan Archer Mounts


Home Is Where – the whaler

There are a ton of dumb, memey ways one could talk about the whaler. From the 9/11 song to the Neutral Milk Hotel worship and possible Weezer homage, this record sometimes feels tailor-made to set up RYM weirdos to craft their most pithy one-liners, and yet… the whaler persists. The sophomore album from fifth-wave emo’s resident folk punk freaks is wildly inventive, sprawling, and probing in a way that makes it impossible to summarize in a single paragraph. Essentially a loose concept album about “getting used to things getting worse,” each song flows into the next while still retaining a circular life of its own. Each song is staggeringly diverse in instrumentation and inspiration, seamlessly incorporating sounds from midwest emo and folk to alt-country and post-hardcore. The lyrics are both urgent and poetic, begging the listener not just to scream along, but to really listen and understand. Even as things get worse, we can thank Home Is Where for being here and creating art that makes things just a little better. 

– Taylor Grimes


Hot Mulligan – Why Would I Watch

Wax Bodega

Yes, Hot Mulligan are yelpy, yes, they’re emo as fuck, and yes, they have songs with names like “Cock Party 2 (Better Than The First).” It’s almost like they’re challenging you not to take them seriously. Despite the seemingly infinite number of marks against them, the Michigan-based Post-Emo band makes music that exceeds any surface-level turn-offs. Following an excellent 2020 release that deflated like so many of the albums from that year, they kept the momentum (and spirits) up with a series of acoustic releases, EPs, covers, and one-off singles, but Why Would I Watch is the first proper full-length from the band in three years, and it’s a front-to-back ripper. I’ll save you any more song titles, but the band’s fourth LP is song after song of frantic outpourings, complete with intricate guitar work, group singalongs, and relatable lamentations. 

– Taylor Grimes


Indigo De Souza – All of This Will End

Saddle Creek

Indigo De Souza is a force of nature. The Asheville-based singer-songwriter is a confluence of immensely relatable sentiments, catchy choruses, and feelings that sweep through each song like a hurricane. Whether she’s reinforcing the importance of nature, venting about a shitty partner, or reflecting on the knowledge that comes with age, Indigo De Souza manages to make it all fit seamlessly within her vibrant, technicolor umbrella. There are crunchy shoegaze riffs, boppy dance numbers, and touches of twang that make each song feel distinct from the others surrounding it. One of those albums where any track feels like it could have served as a single, and I’m left to marvel at how many great ideas can be packed into one LP. 

– Taylor Grimes

Read our review of All of This Will End here


Innerlove. – Roscoe

Refresh Records

While everyone else was listening to, thinking about, commentating on, and participating in the “Pinegrove Shuffle,” I was listening to Roscoe. Much like Quinn Cicala and Ground Swell, Innerlove is a band directly descended from the Emo Kid to Alt-Country Pipeline. Underneath the twang and scent of alcohol, There’s an apparent reverence for the lineage of country music built atop a sturdy understanding of indie rock fundamentals. Every once in a while, a little bit of emo sensibility peeks through, and in that way, it’s a beautiful intersection of where I find my tastes midway through 2023.  

– Taylor Grimes


Jess Williamson – Time Ain’t Accidental

Mexican Summer

If you’ve ever been to Far West Texas, you’ll get why Time Ain’t Accidental is Marfa-coded: steel guitar and highway motifs scream “Wild West,” while Williamson’s coy voice and eclectic percussion choices keep these songs distinctly artsy. However, unlike many Angelenos who descend upon the quintessential artsy Wild West town, Williamson is originally from Texas, and she successfully cashes in on that authenticity in her most country-tinged offering to date. In Time Ain’t Accidental, she documents her extensive time living and loving in Marfa, telling the concurrent stories of an old love (like in “Stampede”) and a new one (like in the title track). Alongside thrilling tales of a poolside rendezvous and driving through a desert storm, she lays lyrical flowers on the grave of a former longtime love. It’s quite the feat, paying tribute to both relationships without one discrediting the other, but Williamson accomplishes it with grace. She reckons with the ruthless fallout of modern dating without ever losing her grip on love’s timeless potential, wide as the Texas sky. Out in Marfa, everything—the brutal and the beautiful—comes to light if you linger long enough.

– Katie Wojciechowski


Kara Jackson – Why Does The Earth Give Us People To Love?

September

Kara Jackson may or may not be the singer-songwriter that the world asked for in the year of our Lord 2023, but there’s no doubt she’s the one we need. Her earthy contralto voice weaves a spell over meandering chords until all of a sudden, the whole thing is basically jazz, and you’d hardly noticed—like the album’s second track, “no fun/party.” While I’d never say her music “sounds like” Joni Mitchell, Mitchell is the only fair, clear comparison I can think to make in terms of a jazz influence on what are essentially folk songs. Why Does The Earth… doesn’t waste a note, from the spare, unnerving “curtains” to the orchestral, heartbreaking title track that wrestles with the impossible question of loss. Some of Jackson’s songs, like “dickhead blues,” move a little slow, but stay with them; every track on this album offers unexpected gems in the form of vocal feats, twisting melodies, and razor-sharp wit. I honestly cannot believe this is her debut album!

– Katie Wojciechowski


Kerosene Heights – ​​Southeast of Somewhere

No Sleep Records

On paper, there’s nothing extravagant about the debut album from Kerosene Heights; there’s no deep theme, intricate concept, or overarching message. Instead, what you get is a collection of 11 rippers that gnash, gnarl, and shred through waves of emo insecurities with a propulsive pop-punk energy. The record starts off with a half-speed crabcore bob, but ignites when lead singer Chance Smith barks, “1, 2, 3, GO!” in a moment that’s sure to summon a pit at every Kerosene Heights show until the end of time. Over the course of the record’s 35-minute runtime, we come to learn that Smith is their own worst enemy as they recount previous instances where they jumped too fast into romance, ruined someone’s birthday, or generally acted like a selfish dick. As the lyrics so eloquently put it on the second song, “I am the worst thing to happen to me.” While that all might sound like a bummer, what’s remarkable is how catchy Kerosene Heights manages to make these confessionals sound. The band’s peppy instrumentals keep the energy level from ever dipping below that of a sugar-free Red Bull. A fast, fun, and boisterous release that I keep coming back to like a bowl of candy.

– Taylor Grimes


Lana Del Rey - Did You Know That There’s A Tunnel Under Ocean Blvd?

Interscope

Lana Del Rey seemingly has no interest in normalcy, subtlety, or doing anything in a way that isn’t larger-than-life. Because of that, artists like her are a dying breed (as she puts it herself on “Sweet”: “I’m a different kind of woman / if you want some basic bitch, go to the Beverly Center and find her”). The sprawl, the filler tracks, the seemingly out-of-place lyrics that already feel dated by the time the record comes out– these are all things that you come to expect with each Lana album release cycle (and that’s not even mentioning the decade-plus fixation on her controversial career arc that has a nasty habit of overshadowing coverage of her actual music). Sometimes she’ll swing and miss, but the swings are always big. On Ocean Blvd., she’s knocked it out of the park. It’s her best work since 2019’s Normal Fucking Rockwell!, perhaps her best work, period. “A&W” alone feels like a monumental feat, an artist staring herself down and confronting her persona and the woman behind it– Where do tragic rock stars go when (thankfully) the 27 Club won’t have them? What happens to the Lolitas who get to live past thirty? Musically, “A&W” feels like the lovechild of “Hard Feelings/Loveless” by Lorde, “Nights” by Frank Ocean, and “Poor Places” by Wilco. Over its six-minute runtime, the slow-building piano ballad that time-lapses through the Three Faces of Eve culminates in a beat switch that transforms the track into a trap banger with a bratty, double-dutch hook and a mic drop-worthy kiss-off: “Your mom called, I told her you’re fucking up big time.” Grand, communal singalongs like “The Grants,” “Let The Light In,” and “Margaret” invite those nearest and dearest to Lana to sing about love in all its forms– romantic, platonic, familial –while whispery, introspective cuts like “Candy Necklace,” “Kintsugi,” and “Fishtail” show her at her most vulnerable and intimate. My personal pick for song of the summer, “Peppers,” is a stock “the sun is out, my man and I are hot as fuck, and we can’t keep our hands off each other” Lana song, and the way it seamlessly merges a trip-hoppy Tommy Genesis hook into a sample from “Wipeout” (over fourth-wall-breaking studio chatter that introduces said sample) is a stroke of genius. In short: the bitch is back and better than ever. 

– Grace Robins-Somerville


Militarie Gun – Life Under the Gun

Loma Vista Recordings

Ooh ooh! (There’s no other way I could have started this write-up.) I am so happy Life Under the Gun clocks in at just over 27 minutes; I was able to listen to the album on repeat enough times to identify it as one of my favorite releases of 2023 so far. Ian Shelton (of Regional Justice Center and the podcast I Don’t Care If This Ruins My Life with Drug Church’s/Self-Defense Family’s Patrick Kindlon) grazes hardcore like a poorly aimed bullet knicks the skin. Despite Life Under the Gun’s sonic lightness, its heavy themes of honesty, lethargy, and pressure are explored through the lens of hook-ridden guitar pop. After a few mix EPs (and the perennial banger “Pressure Cooker” with co-conspirator DAZY) under the Militarie Gun moniker, Shelton reveals his knack for songwriting extends to crafting a tight album that contains depth beyond catchy songs.

– Joe Wasserman


Miya Folick – ROACH

Nettwerk Records

I fell in love with Folick’s songwriting a couple of years ago when I first paid close attention to her lyrics on the 2015 track “Talking With Strangers” in reference to a potential friendship:

And half of my brain was totally afraid
That she’d hate me, never want to see me again
And half of my brain was equally afraid
That she’d like me, wanna be my friend

It felt, and still feels, so resonant with my own experience of trying to figure out myself and other people. Her introspections on ROACH pull at the same old threads of identity, meaning, and love, but now we find her an even more whole, interesting human with almost a decade more life experience backing her musings. On most of the album’s songs, Folick’s delicate, yearning voice takes center stage in layered harmonies over feather-light beats and eclectic synths. On “Get Out of My House” and “Shortstop,” she explores the optimistic side of leaving love that no longer serves her, while “Nothing To See” and “Cockroach” alchemize angst into catharsis. My favorite moments, though, are still the ones where she tackles something big. My two favorite tracks, “Oh God” and “Cartoon Clouds,” seem diametrically opposed, but I see them as a bit of a call-and-response—the former asking, only semi-ironically, if perhaps God could provide the meaning her chaotic life needs. The latter answers that same inner void with the simple, grounded conclusion, “Doesn’t it feel good to feel good?”

– Katie Wojciechowski


Nourished by Time – Erotic Probiotic 2

Scenic Route Records

Did you hear? Disco is back, regarded more highly than ever. Unfortunately, it’s also been sanded down at the edges, a mere shell of its former bombast. Elsewhere, shards of the most recalcitrant strands of tasteless late-aughts radio rock are being fashioned into a Frankenstein’s monster of futuristic pop (your mileage may vary). The re-evaluation will not be televised; it will be served up on your Discover Weekly or your For You page. For those seeking a third way, a retro-futurist middle ground between the mawkishly tasteful and pure abrasion, look no further than Erotic Probiotic 2, a sleek dance-pop album with the melodic sensibility of Houston rap’s warbling hooks at the turn of the century. “Daddy” is a winking inversion of heartbreak and “grindset” mentality, while “Rain Water Promise” marries vaporous synths and skittering 80s drums. This is club music for the introverts, emo for the club kids. It’s vulnerable, funky, lush, and, above all, too weird to fade entirely into the background.

– Jason Sloan


Superviolet – Infinite Spring

Lame-O Records

Confession time: I was never a Sidekicks Guy. Maybe I was just a few years too young, maybe if I’d listened to more Iron Chic in high school I would have gotten there, but regardless, I showed up late to the party. Luckily through a string of excellent singles, Lame-O co-sign, and persistent Orgcore gf, I found myself eagerly anticipating Steve Ciolek’s new project Superviolet. Slightly folksier, a little prettier, and much more mature, Infinite Spring feels like a best-case scenario for what happens when you age out of a certain music scene. These songs are loving and naturalistic, concerned with memories, feelings, and human connection above all else. Songs like “Overrater” and “Blue Bower” bring the power pop energy, while tracks like “Good Ghost” and “Wave Back” manage to be some of the most touching and life-affirming pieces of music I’ve heard all year. A beautiful album that showcases an effortless artistic evolution into something entirely its own.

— Taylor Grimes


ther – a horrid whisper echoes in a palace of endless joy

Self-Released

A quietly familiar feeling bubbles up after spending just under 30 minutes listening to a horrid whisper echoes in a palace of endless joy, the second album from Philadelphia’s Heather Jones, a.k.a. ther. Perhaps an emboldened hope, a bit of dread, mixed in with the terrifying wonder of each passing day. Jones writes elegantly and broadly about the mundane, the personal, and the ethereal, shaping into an approximation of life itself. Album opener “1 kid” sets the stage for the diorama of memories and music that ensues. A lyric like “How strange to be born in a time like now / When everybody’s freaking out” grasps at a perpetual absurdity, stretched over every decade and sinking in whenever you find yourself listening. Jones’ questioning lies unanswered; silence is left to speak. There’s no way to wrap your head around the strangeness — it simply always is. a horrid whisper is reminiscent of the various works of Phil Elverum while approaching similar themes in wholly distinct ways. “big papi lassos the moon” sifts through the uncertainty of passing days and the relentless forward motion of time. It starts with David Ortiz and lands on the ambient hope of finding peace within the cosmic complications of life. Pedal steel, cello, and baritone saxophone swirl around pensive guitar melodies yet never swallow the central focus on Jones’ vocals and lyrics. ther has found a place of spectral, overwhelming beauty on a horrid whisper; a place that can’t be understood but still feels like home.

– Wes Muilenburg


Water Damage - 2 Songs 

12XU

Water Damage kind of feels like the perfect name for a band that employs a lot of warped and warbly sounds in their recordings. Austin’s self-proclaimed “drone supergroup” returns for their second album, 2 Songs, and it’s not just a clever name. We’re given two album-side-length bangers that sit between kraut-, noise-, and psych-rock in their near-20-minute runtimes. Comprised of members from Black Eyes, Shit And Shine, and Swans, the band’s lo-fi journeys are as hypnotic as they are haunting, immersive as they are antagonistic, with the two “reels” being titled ‘Fuck This’ and ‘Fuck That.’ Easily one of the most exciting newer bands I’ve discovered this year.

— Logan Archer Mounts


Wednesday – Rat Saw God

Part of me feels like I barely need to sing the praises of Wednesday. The North Carolina band has spent the past few years rapidly climbing the ranks of indie rock with increasingly prolific interviews, reviews, and sold-out shows, gaining an army of fans along the way. Part of me also feels like I already said my piece on this band’s body of work with my massive Countrygaze essay from last November. Despite how much has been written about this band and their latest album, Rat Saw God is a five-star knockout of shoegaze epics, dirtbag love songs, and deep south morality tales that all coalesce into a hot and hazy collection of songs that sound unlike any other band. 

– Taylor Grimes


Worry Club – All Frogs Go To Heaven

Self-released

For the longest time, I kept spinning All Frogs Go To Heaven just trying to figure out how I would even define this music. Emo? Dance? Surf? There’s a little bit of screaming on some songs, while others lean into a boppy HUNNY style of music that would have popped off on Tumblr in 2017. No matter the case, this release grabs you right out of the gate with a two-note riff that gets you in the groove and keeps you (willingly) suspended there for the remaining five tracks. Eventually, I realized the closest thing I could compare Worry Club to is Oso Oso: sunny and lightweight indie rock songs with the occasional drop of emo. Where Worry Club differs is how quickly they rev up to a full-speed throttle and how well they pair a melody with the rapid, robotic guitarwork. Ultimately, Worry Club are in a lane all their own where allowing yourself to be emotional is just as important as dancing through the pain.

– Taylor Grimes

Swim Into The Sound's 15 Favorite Albums of 2021

I hate to always start these with a gloomy intro paragraph, but I’ll be real; 2021 has been hard. In some ways, harder than 2020. While many of us spent last year hunkered down and reeling from a global pandemic, this year has been far more undefinable. We’re nearing a million dead from COVID here in the US, and the government response has essentially boiled down to a shrug. At least last year, it felt like we were all in this together. 

For me, 2021 has been a year of breakups, burnouts, and overall bummers. As we sit on the brink of another outbreak with collective “pandemic fatigue,” I’m beginning to think that we’re never getting out of this. It seems that, when faced with two options, most people will opt for the one that helps them and them alone. Either that or people are so far down their individualistic rabbit holes that they can’t see the forest for the trees. It’s been a debilitating and demoralizing season, but I’m still here, and so are you. 

As with most other years, music was a shining bright spot in my life that helped me through each and every day. Whether consoling, comforting, or just helping me forget about the outside world for a few minutes, there were plenty of albums this year that I found peace in. These albums have been my oasis. The safe space that allowed me to weather the storm and make sense of it all. They’ve soundtracked moments of joyous exhilaration and crushing loss. No matter what they sound like, these are the albums that have helped me through a very dark, very long, very hard year. 

Despite how dour I sound and how paralyzed I feel, I am thankful to be here and grateful that I get to experience works of art such as these. Here are my 15 favorite albums of the year. 


15 | Wild Pink - A Billion Little Lights

Royal Mountain Records

For the better part of the last decade, Wild Pink have been carefully fleshing out their own corner of the musical world with loving brushstrokes. Sometimes those brushstrokes would be long, vibrant streaks like 2018’s Yolk in the Fur, and other times they would be shorter dispatches like an EP here, or a random Taylor Swift cover there. Throughout 2021, the heartland indie rockers seemed hellbent on adding more onto their canvas than ever before. Released in February, A Billion Little Lights is a searching album that conjures the awe-inspiring feelings of a drive through America’s heartland. The sun shines down upon you as you feel the wind in your hair and take in the vast expanse before you. The amber-coated fields of grain contrast the cloudless blue skies, and you feel at home, even though you’re hundreds of miles away from everything you’ve ever known. That’s what listening to A Billion Little Lights is like. Supported throughout the year by a tour, an EP, some covers, a live album, and capped off by an excellent single, there has never been a better or more rewarding year to live within the world crafted by John Ross & co.


14 | The Antlers - Green To Gold

Anti-

Some albums capture the frigid landscape of winter. Others embody the celebratory warmth of summer. While I love those types of albums, I’ve never heard a record capture the transition between seasons quite like Green To Gold. With dreamy lounge piano, vibrant steel guitar, and expansive instrumental stretches, The Antlers’ sixth studio album (and first in seven years) sees the band at a transitionary period too. Conceived and written almost entirely in the morning hours, the band’s latest is, as lead singer Peter Silberman puts it, “the first album I’ve made that has no eeriness in it.” He went on to elaborate, “I set out to make Sunday morning music.” Despite this aversion to darkness, everything about Green To Gold, from its title to the songs contained within it, is about the liminal spaces of life. And when you really think about it, aren’t those in-between moments are more compelling anyway? It’s easy to paint life with binaries, but the truth is more often somewhere in the middle. What’s really telling of who you are as a person is what you do to swing out of those periods and move between them. What do you do when you don’t know what to do? For The Antlers, the answer lies within this record. 

Just as Green To Gold soundtracked our world’s unthawing, the recently-released Losing Light captures our yearly withdrawal. Slower, darker, and released at the perfect time in the depths of November, the EP is a worthy addendum to the band’s latest record that makes it feel like a living, breathing piece of art. 


13 | Good Sleepy - everysinglelittlebit

No Sleep Records

everysinglelittlebit begins like a dream. As the album’s introductory track unfolds, it feels as if you’re making your way through a dense, moss-covered forest. Thick fog fills the air, carrying disembodied voices that swirl around the outer reaches of your perception, and suddenly everything drops out at once with “suffokate.” It’s like one of those trapping pits where hunters cover the opening in branches and leaves. You set foot onto it, shift your weight, and suddenly find yourself in a freefall. The song hits you like a punch to the gut, combining jittery guitarwork with a tight rhythm section and weighty shout-along vocals. Despite this bombastic sequencing, the tracklist does a good job of giving the listener a chance to catch their breath every once in a while, only to sap it away with the next track. Good Sleepy spend the duration of their debut album grappling with overwrought emotions, complicated relationships, and the idea of emotional self-sustainability. The instrumentals are tight and punchy, settling in at a middle ground somewhere between Stars Hollow and Ogbert The Nerd. The end result is an album with the nervous energy of speeding down the highway while chugging a Red Bull on your way to a basement gig. I know with everysinglelittlebit of myself that we’ll all be back there soon.


12 | Alien Boy - Don’t Know What I Am

Get Better Records

Don’t Know What I Am plays out like the soundtrack to a long-lost ​​mid-90s coming-of-age teen comedy. I’m not even talking about that made-for-TV trash, I’m talking top-of-the-line teen dramedies like Heathers and 10 Things I Hate About You. The kind of movies that culminate in a house party and always know when to bust out a peppy pop-punk tune. I suppose that would make “The Way I Feel” the scene-setting opening credits song that would play as we swoop into some bustling high school and meet our main characters. Throughout the record, the Portland rockers do an excellent job of introducing themselves to the audience, guiding them along this emotional journey, and pulling on our heartstrings with expertly-crafted hooks fit for 90s alt radio. The instrumentals are dripping in fuzzy shoegaze feedback that borrows equal parts from power pop and emo. Best listened to loud af, Don’t Know What I Am tackles topics of self-discovery, partnership, and queerness. More than anything, this record sounds like unrepentant love. It sounds like teenage adoration. It sounds like finding someone who loves you for who you are. This is the way things should have always been and should always be. It’s love the way you always wanted. 


11 | Lucy Dacus - Home Video

Matador Records

Home Video hurts to listen to. Not just because it’s a collection of raw feelings and confessional songs, but because it was released as my relationship was crumbling in real-time. I usually try to not inject too much of my personal life on here (much less in an AOTY countdown), but this album’s pain feels intertwined with my own. The songs of unfit pairings, longing, and heartbreak mirror the feelings I’ve experienced this year. Home Video is a hard album to listen to, but even still, I can’t deny its mastery. This record delivers everything I loved about 2018’s Historian and makes it even more approachable. There are still killer guitar solos, anthemic choruses, and aching balladry, but Dacus seems even more sure of herself. These pleasant qualities help dislodge these songs from the hurt. This record may still be hard for me to listen to, but a few years down the line, I can’t wait to revisit this release from a new perspective and ride alongside in Dacus’ passenger seat, taking in the world.


10 | Stars Hollow - I Want to Live My Life

Acrobat Unstable Records

Like most emo records, the debut album from Stars Hollow sees our narrator coming face to face with their faults. The key difference between I Want to Live My Life and most other emo records is that we actually accompany our hero on their journey towards self-betterment. While other releases of this genre lament not being able to get the girl or dig yourself out of a rut, I Want to Live My Life rolls up its sleeves and actually does the hard work. This means is that the listener experiences every phase of this journey as the band works their way from merely maintaining to striving to achieve something more. It’s a beautiful and true human experience captured in a compelling 25-minute run time.

Read our full review of I Want to Live my Life here.


9 | Fiddlehead - Between the Richness

Run For Cover Records

While Springtime & Blind was an album mired in death, Between the Richness is an album about life. Specifically, about the things that define a life. Inspired by lead singer Patrick Flynn’s experience as a recent father, the album uses his newfound perspective to unflinchingly capture the things that define us early on. Childhood friendships, mentors, conflicting emotions, growing apart, and academic expectations are all topics that inform the songs here. This all builds to an album-length collage that mirrors the building blocks most of us are comprised of.

After many, many, many repeated listens of Between the Richness, there’s one thing that always sticks in my mind. After all the dust has settled; after the EE Cummings poem, the Latin passages, and the obituary readings, one lyric always rattles around in my brain for hours on end; “How do I say goodbye?” Like many other lines on the album, it’s belted in a near-scream by Flynn, but is swaddled in a melody that can get stuck in your head for hours… and therein lies the beauty of Fiddlehead. Complicated articulations of even more complicated feelings delivered in a cathartic way that not only makes sense but makes you want to join in.


8 | Mannequin Pussy - Perfect

Epitaph

Punk music was never meant to be indulgent, and no release this year proved that more than Mannequin Pussy’s Perfect. A compact collection of five songs weighing in at a collective 14-minute runtime, this might be (pardon my pun) the perfect punk album… or at the very least, the best distillation of Mannequin Pussy’s range of sounds. “Control” is the ultra-relatable lead single, “Perfect” is the burn-it-all-down punk cut, and “To Lose You” is the soaring lovelorn middle child. Beyond that trifecta, “Pigs Is Pigs” is a bass-led hardcore sucker-punch with a vital message immediately contrasted with “Darling,” the EPs solitary closing ballad. Perfect is a full range of emotions captured in a rapid-fire montage of rage, love, injustice, hate, loneliness, and adoration. There’s simply nothing more you could ask for. 


7 | Cory Hanson - Pale Horse Rider

Drag City Inc

In my mind, Pale Horse Rider is a concept album. It’s a record about a cowboy riding an undead skeletal horse to the psychedelic depths of hell. The reason isn’t entirely clear, but odds are he’s going to rescue the girl from a hulking demonic behemoth. It’s like a Robert Rodriguez film, but way more laid back. Or maybe Evil Dead if the characters cracked a few less jokes. It’s Dante’s Inferno in a western setting. 

The title track is an early tent poll that plays out like the would-be movie’s title card. From there, we wind from the desert-like desolation of “Necklace” to the epic battle portrayed as a guitar solo on “Another Story From the Center of the Earth.” Even the celebratory moments like “Limited Hangout” are carried out after acknowledging how arduous the journey has been. “Sometimes it's so hard not to feel like a corpse Dragging a soul on two broken wheels / I have often felt the edges of my body trying to escape,” Hanson bemoans before picking up a drink. It’s a nice little moment of lightness that still acknowledges the dark reality we often find ourselves in.

With Hanson as our ferryman, he guides us through the voyage with crystalline pedal steel, rumbling cowboy drums, and jangly campfire acoustic guitar. Despite the macabre theme and overall mood, the release closes out with a sunny disposition on “Pigs,” which plays out like the final credits after we’ve clawed our way back to the surface of the earth. In true old west fashion, the album leaves you ready for another pulpy expedition, but not before celebrating with a stiff drink.


6 | Jail Socks - Coming Down

Counter Intuitive Records

When I listen to Coming Down, I hear Jail Socks, but I also hear my childhood. I hear my first collection of CDs like Sum 41, Good Charlotte, and Simple Plan. I hear candy-coated pop-rock with immaculate hooks and catchy choruses that mask a more profound layer of emotions lying just beneath the surface. Essentially an album about the comedown of youth, the band’s debut album builds off the foundation laid out in their 2019 EP and draws influence from 90s alt-rockers like Third Eye Blind and Jimmy Eat World. From outright rippers like “Peace of Mind” and “Point Point Pleasant” to more pensive moments found on “Pale Blue Light” and “More Than This,” the band explores a dazzling range of early-20-something lamentations on this record. Already my most-listened-to album of 2021, I know that Coming Down will be an album I’ll return to for many years to come. 

Read our full review of Coming Down here.


5 | The World Is A Beautiful Place & I Am No Longer Afraid to Die - Illusory Walls

Epitaph

An 80-minute post-emo, post-hardcore, post-rock album about the social, moral, and ideological rot of late-stage capitalism? AND it’s all passed through a conceptual Dark Souls filter? I am in. There’s simply no amount of hyperbole I could pack into this introduction that would do Illusory Walls justice, so I’ll just say that this was one of the most impactful first listens I’ve had with an album in years. The World Is a Beautiful Place & I Am No Longer Afraid to Die are perhaps best known for being forebears of the 2010s Emo Revival. Famous for their long name and even longer list of band members, everything about Illusory Walls seems counter to their previous work. It’s a darker, fiercer, and more focused album that was conceived amongst the group’s (now core) five members. 

While the singles range from a mixture of The Anniversary and Broken Social Scene on “Queen Sophie For President” and heavy metal riffage on “Invading the World of the Guilty as a Spirit of Vengeance,” the group rounds out distant corners of their universe on songs like “We Saw Birds Through the Hole in the Ceiling” and “Your Brain is a Rubbermaid.” The cherry on top of this album comes with the one-two punch of its closing tracks. Both the 16-minute “Infinite Josh” and the 20-minute “Fewer Afraid” are absolutely jaw-dropping tracks that are guaranteed to inflict goosebumps upon any listeners who might take them in with an open heart. While “Infinite Josh” is built around a post-rock build and steadfast bassline, “Fewer Afraid” is a career highlight manifesto complete with a spoken-word passage and philosophical sentiments. The latter of these two songs evoked an actual joy-filled scream from me upon first listen when the band broke out into an interpolation of my favorite song of theirs from nearly a decade earlier. 

Over the course of this album’s final 36 minutes, the group touches on topics like death, the passage of time, religion, and the desire to make the world a better place. It’s inspiring, cosmically-affirming, and downright staggering. In one of the record’s most profound lines, friend of the band Sarah Cowell sings,

You cry at the news, I just turn it off
They say there's nothing we can do and it never stops
You believe in a god watching over
I think the world's fucked up and brutal
Senseless violence with no guiding light
I can't live like this, but I'm not ready to die

Even if you aren’t a fan of this band or emo as a whole, Illusory Walls is a boundless work that shatters nearly every preconceived notion one might have about the possibilities of this genre—an extraordinary feat of the medium.


4 | Japanese Breakfast - Jubilee

Dead Oceans

Michelle Zauner has had a hard couple of years. After the dissolution of her previous band and the death of her mother, Zauner coped the best way musicians know how: by creating. She recoiled into grief over the series of several Bandcamp EPs, culminating in 2016’s phenomenal Psychopomp. She processed her loss in the outer reaches of space with 2017’s Soft Sounds From Another Planet and then took a few years to explore her creative whims. She recorded some covers, did some collabs, and even wrote a damn book. This is all to say that Zauner has kept busy, and after plumbing the depths of sorrow for nigh on five years, she has earned herself a bit of joy. Enter Jubilee

Japanese Breakfast’s aptly-titled third album finds Zauner basking in vibrant colors, biting into a sweet persimmon, and allowing herself a cautious bit of happiness. “Paprika” sifts through the rubble, eventually uncovering a triumphant parade of love. This leads directly into “Be Sweet,” which is a downright untouchable anthem that deserves nothing less than to be sung at the top of your lungs while bouncing around in pure revelry. This is not to say Jubilee is all good vibes; the album’s happiness is also tempered with plenty of realism and darkness found in songs like “Posing In Bondage” and “Savage Good Boy.” Just as there will always be loneliness and shitty men even in life’s best moments, Jubilee acknowledges the presence of good alongside the bad. It’s a complete spectrum of emotions that all cement in the epic six-minute slow-burn closer “Posing For Cars.” Michelle Zauner will not be defined by her grief nor her happiness. She is a complete human with a planet’s worth of emotions contained within. Jubilee is merely Zauner’s attempt at capturing that ever-shifting mix of feelings. It’s a rush.


3 | Turnstile - Glow On

Roadrunner Records Inc.

Before Turnstile even announced Glow On, the band’s four-song Turnstile Love Connection had already made its way onto my album of the year shortlist. On Turnstile’s third studio album, the band builds off their summer sample platter (and excellent visualization) into an expanded world of pink cloud hardcore punk. One spin of the album’s opening call to action, and it’s easy to see the appeal; muscular guitar riffs, exhilarating instrumentals, and catchy scream-along lyrics are all things the group has mastered now over a decade into their career. 

Months ago, I saw someone online describe the album as “pop-punk,” and I have become obsessed with that descriptor. Glow On isn’t pop-punk in the frosted tips Sum 41 sense of the term but in a much more literal interpretation of those two words. This is hardcore punk music made in a poppy, approachable way. This is radio rock that can deadlift hundreds of pounds and throw up a 6-minute mile no problem. If this album doesn’t want to make you take flight, then quite frankly, nothing will.


2 | Wednesday - Twin Plagues

Ordinal Records

How many of us have experienced Twin Plagues over the last year? The loss of a family member and the loss of a job. A life-threatening accident and a breakup. Bad news following already bad news. Sometimes these things just overlap, and when they do, they compound, making each feel worse in the process. Add a climate crisis, political regression, and a pandemic on top of it, and you’ll find that one section of your brain has been passively worrying for the last two years, if not longer.

Twin Plagues is an album full of these dual-wielding worries, contrasted against midwest mundanities. NFL teams, burned-down fast food buildings, high school acid trips, family photos, and dead pets are brought up and passed by like a roadside attraction that nobody wants to stop the car for. While nondescript on paper, these observations are rendered beautifully within the album, set to an instrumental backdrop that ranges from fuzzed-out shoegaze to wistful slide guitar.

This record captures these overlapping plagues and offers a surprising amount of compassion to the emotionally rung-out listener. It’s the sound of multiple major life events converging on you at once, all while the world outside continues to spin onward. It’s the sound of catastrophe happening while you find yourself caught in the eye of the storm. 

That said, there’s still escape and comfort to be found here. Twin Plagues may not offer a solution, but in a way, it offers something better; solidarity. It provides the knowledge that you are not alone. It quells your mind with the fact that there are other people out there experiencing the same thing, and, despite how it may seem, we are stronger together than anything the world can throw at us individually. And if you’ve made it this far? If you’ve weathered those Twin Plagues or you doubt that you have the strength to do so, then look no further than the affirmative first words of the album: you are fearless


1 | Home is Where - I Became Birds

Knifepunch Records

If I were to describe I Became Birds with one word, it would be electrifying. There are tons of things you can compare Home Is Where to: Neutral Milk Hotel, Bob Dylan, and your favorite local punk band, just to name a few. But simply put, this band is unlike anything I’ve ever heard before. As a collection of songs, I Became Birds is all of those sounds and influences packed into a magnificent 19 minutes that strikes my soul like a bolt of lightning. With poetic and visceral lyrics that capture the trans experience, these songs tackle important and seldom-discussed topics like body dysmorphia and self-discovery in inventive and affirming ways. The band also touches on rustic backcountry sentiments, the desire to pet puppies, and presidential assassinations throughout the album’s blistering fast runtime. 

Back in March, I described the release as a rickety roller coaster, and I stand by that. Every time I give this record a listen, I half expect it to collapse under the weight of itself. This is even reflected in the band’s live performances as lead singer Bea MacDonald leaps, screams, shouts, wails, and collapses as the songs unfold. The guitars sway, tap, and shred with a fiery passion, floating just above the propulsive rhythm section, which alternates between gently guiding the songs forward and putting the pedal to the metal, forcing them into a careening full-tilt. Throw in some harmonica, synth, horns, violin, group chants, and a singing saw, and you have an honest, revelatory, and elating experience that also makes for the best album of 2021.

Swim Into The Sound's Staff Favorites of 2021

Back in the early days of this site, I would feel a strange sense of accomplishment whenever someone would talk about Swim Into The Sound as if it were run by multiple people. I suppose sometimes it’s just common practice to refer to a website with plural terms like “you guys” or “the team,” but it always made me proud that I alone was making something that could possibly be mistaken for the work of multiple people. 

And sure, we’ve had guest writers before 2021, but they were usually few and far between. Previously, guest posts were typically just one-off articles, published once or twice per year. All of that changed in 2021 as a lineup of a half-dozen or so writers solidified into regular contributors over the course of the year.

At the beginning of 2021, I made a resolution to myself to post one article here every week. I’m proud to say that we surpassed that goal and then some, and it wouldn’t have been possible without the help of these talented writers. In total, we had 22 guest posts throughout the year (23, if you count this one), and I could not be more appreciative of that fact. Without these writer’s talent and hard work, this site would have had long gaps between posts at multiple points throughout the year. Simply put, they helped this site immensely throughout 2021 and really helped Swim Into The Sound feel like a legitimate music blog. 

Another cool thing about bringing in this wealth of outside talent and perspectives is that I can connect the dots a little bit more. On any given week, I receive a number of emails and DMs that I consider “suffocating.” Whether they’re for an upcoming song, music video, or album, these things pile up in my inboxes and bury me alive. Even if these solicitations come from bands or labels that I love, I don’t have the time to personally write about every release that I want to. Now that I have something resembling a staff, I can send these upcoming releases to a group chat and quickly find someone who’s eager to write about this music with the love and care that it deserves. 

Connecting those dots has led to some cool opportunities and extraordinary pieces of writing this year. Amongst other things, our staff wrote awesome album reviews, single write-ups, multiple incredible interviews, premieres, concert reviews, and more. I’m immensely proud of everything that’s been published on the site this year, and I’m excited to see what 2022 has in store for us. For now though, let’s take one last look through 2021 as I turn the site over to our staff to hear about their favorite records of the year.


Cailen Pygott | Weakened Friends - Quitter

It was October 28th when Taylor initially proposed this collection of album of the year reviews. At the time, two albums were neck and neck for my personal first place. As I was busy prepping for multiple re-listens, massive pro and con lists, and an east coast west coast style song bracket to determine who would reign supreme, a thought occurred to me: ‘I should probably wait for the three weeks until Weakened Friends release Quitter.’ This is an album I’ve been expecting to top my year-end list ever since the single “What You Like” came out (holy shit) two years ago. Sonia Sturino is one of a handful of songwriters whose lyrics feel could have been ripped straight from my daily journaling practice if I had kept at it for longer than two days. The way Sturino’s songs express feelings of isolation, heartbreak, and the fear that you, yes you specifically, are fucking everything up is a pure reflection of my inner monologue on my worst days. Am I just projecting? Survey says probably, but this album friggin’ rips all the same. I graduated from a two-year community college music program, and the technical term for these guitars is “frickin’ thick dude.” I’ve believed for years that we as a society don’t talk about Annie Hoffman the bass player enough, but Quitter is also a brilliant showcase of her work as a producer. There’s an ever-rising level of intensity throughout that hits its climax in “Haunted House” and carries through the final two tracks showing off a mastery of compositional arrangement. All of the songs on Quitter stand on their own, but it’s this care and attention paid to the album as a singular work of art that makes it my AOTY. 

Fun fact: My band No, It’s Fine. included a version of “Early” on our 2021 cover album (It’s Nice To Pretend) We Wrote These Songs. Now here are some made-up superlatives to highlight most of the music that shaped my year. Some of these are older, but they’re still important to me, dang it!

  • Best Guitar Solo - Cheekface “Next to Me”

  • Best New song by a Twitter mutual I’ve never met - Pictoria Vark “I Can’t Bike”

  • Band I’d most like to be friends with - Year Twins

  • Favourite band I discovered due to mutual barista rage - Puppy Angst

  • Favorite Rediscovery - The Drew Thomson Foundation - Self Titled

  • Song that made me cry the most times - Rosie Tucker “Ambrosia” and “Habanero”

  • Best podcast soundtrack - Planet Arcana

  • Best band I got into this year only to realize they already broke up - Lonely Parade

  • Album that got me through running 5ks when I still had the motivation to run 5ks - Gregory Pepper & His Problems - I Know Now Why You Cry

  • Song that made me feel better about my body for but one fleeting moment - Durry “Who’s Laughing Now”


Connor Fitzpatrick | Mdou Moctar - Afrique Victime

Mdou Moctar is the most important guitarist in the game right now, and 2021 has been his year. I’ve been a fan of his for a few years now, so it’s been rewarding to see him and his band get their shine. Afrique Victime is Moctar’s best work yet. It’s not much of a departure from Ilana: The Creator, but a refinement of what makes their music so special. The album’s got loud shredding (“Chismiten”), hypnotic grooves (“Ya Habibiti”), and heartfelt balladry (“Tala Tannam”). What sets the virtuosic Tuareg guitar player apart from the pack is just how expressive and unpredictable his phrasing is. On the title track, the band spends four minutes developing an entrancing rhythm before Moctar’s guitar drops off only to come back, detached from the rest of the band, in a firestorm of noise and anger while the band continues to play faster and faster. It’s a breathtaking moment that mirrors Mdou’s lyrics of colonial destruction in Western Africa. One of the most frustrating things for me in the coverage of Mdou Moctar has been the knee-jerk reaction to compare him to guitar gods of the past. It’s an attempt to display his prowess as a musician, but ultimately it takes the spotlight away from how singular he is. There is only one Mdou Moctar, and Afrique Victime is his crowning achievement. 


My 10 favorite Bandcamp purchases of 2021
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Joe Wasserman | Mo Troper - Dilettante

I am a sucker for hearing the warm buzz of a tube amp. “My Parrot,” a song about an avian existential crisis, is what sold me on Dilettante despite my already being totally sold on Mo Troper. “Wet T-Shirt Contest” has a rumbling, buoyant bass line while the listener yearns to discern just why the speaker “never [wants] to see those nipples again.” These are just two tracks off Dilettante’s 28-song playlist-as-album/data dump. Troper is masterful in crafting infectious songs that can withstand the test of time, much like The Beatles.


Runner-up
: Dazy - MAXIMUMBLASTSUPERLOUD: The First 24 Songs
To some, I might be cheating with this one. Only the first 16 songs are from 2021; the rest are off 2020 EPs. Regardless, Dazy’s MAXIMUMBLASTSUPERLOUD: The First 24 Songs is another masterclass in to-the-point, effective, worming power pop that is not too sugary. After discovering Dazy while reading an interview with David Anthony, I listened to the album while playing Call of Duty, exercising, doing the dishes, walking the dogs, and pretty much anything else in my life. MAXIMUMBLASTSUPERLOUD is upbeat, frenetic, and makes me feel happy, which speaks droves given how the last few years have gone on both the grand and granular levels.


Albums/EPs That Deserve More Attention (in no specific order)
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Grace Robins-Somerville | black midi - Cavalcade

Likes: the abundance of exciting new bands coming out of the Windmill Brixton scene. Dislikes: nearly everything that’s been written about them. 

I’ll sit down to read almost any piece about a group like black midi, and here come the critic’s thoughts on Squid, Shame, Dry Cleaning, Black Country New Road, Goat Girl– as though they can’t help but lump all these groups together. Sure, there are some surface-level similarities between the heavy hitters– they’re British, they all make guitar-led post-rock adjacent music that often includes talk-singing, many have worked with producer Dan Carey, and 2021 was a big year for all of them. But in reality, these bands don’t have much else in common, and the tendency to hyperfocus on one band’s niche in a particular scene often overlooks what makes them unique. 

Anyway, now that I’ve hypocritically discussed black midi solely in the context of their contemporaries, let’s dive into my AOTY: the decadent kaleidoscope of controlled chaos that is their sophomore album Cavalcade. My love for black midi is well-documented. Their music often feels like the audio equivalent of this picture in the best possible way. They have a penchant for sequencing their albums in a way that shouldn’t work but somehow does: How better to follow up a satirical prog-rock cautionary tale about a cult leader who gets overthrown by his once-loyal followers (complete with a helicopter feature), than with a bossa nova ballad for German-American film-and-cabaret star Marlene Dietrich? An abrasive punk track about two runaway thieves (who may or may not be chickens?) somehow segues perfectly into a 10-minute pun-based Scott Walker-esque closer about a musician interrogating the integrity of his art. And yeah, the middle of an album is totally the best place for a delicately droning slow-burner inspired by an Isabel Waidner novel. This all might paint an unfairly pretentious picture of black midi, but the real magic of their music is that it never gets quite so esoteric or technical that it stops being fun. If I haven’t convinced you of that, perhaps this Britney Spears cover will.


Runners-Up


Jack Hansen-Reed | Home Is Where – I Became Birds

2021 was a great year, and this was shaping up to be a tough decision for me until I Became Birds blew me away. In only an 18 minute “album,” Home Is Where deliver a release that can only be described as an enigma. The record has been (frequently) likened to Neutral Milk Hotel due to its folk influence/instrumentation and unique vocal deliveries, but it would be an injustice to say that I Became Birds is truly following in anyone’s footsteps. This record weaves capriciously between genres, transporting you from insanely cathartic rushes of power and emotion to serene moments of haunting beauty. If you’re a first-time listener, get ready for some goosebumps, because they’re coming.

With a release like this that so boisterously defies singular categorization, you’re forced to describe it by no one else’s labels or descriptors, only through your own experience. First, I have to say that vocally this is a powerhouse performance that continues to impress me every time I go back to it. Somehow, vocalist Brandon MacDonald is able to match the furious range of the instrumentals showcased here and add endlessly to their intensity. More than anything else, to me, this release is a powerful and kinetic journey that would be impossible to achieve without its mix of jarring yet apt lyrics, incredibly expressive tone, and just in general great instrumental performances. I Became Birds stands above the rest as my release of 2021 because it excites me like nothing else this year. It sparks me to go wild at shows, plumb the darkest corners of my mind, and of course, to hear what incredible material Home Is Where is cooking up next.


Runners-up
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  • Like a Stone – Remember Sports

  • Future Suits – Pet Symmetry

  • Pono - A Great Big Pile of Leaves