June 30, 2025

The Best of Q2 2025

June 30, 2025/ The Swim Team

We’re halfway through 2025, and it feels like my brain is contorting into shapes it was never meant to hold. Unlike my intro for our favorites of Q1, I’m going to try my best not to go on a screed, but it’s hard not to treat these roundups as little check-ins. It’s also hard not to be upset at the countless acts of violence, injustice, and just plain stupidity being carried out in our name and on our dollar. It’s hard to conceive of because sometimes our day-to-day feels so completely unchanged or mind-numbingly banal. Hell, some days are even great. Then that feels weird because you’re allowing yourself one ounce of joy in the company of friends and loved ones, and suddenly you snap back to the reality of the world we’re living in. You remember the machine you’re a part of, and you try your best to operate outside of it, but sometimes that machine feels absolute and inescapable.

I think what I’m trying to say is that this is a uniquely treacherous time to be alive, but there’s still beauty to be had. There’s salvation to be found in community, and there is support to be lent to those who need it. There’s art to share with each other, and that’s why we’re here.

This past month, a couple of our friends had a beautiful, healthy baby. Another couple got a brand new puppy who’s barely big enough to make it up a single stair. I went to a baseball game primarily to down a beer, a hot dog, and fistfuls of popcorn. I had my 32nd birthday and was surrounded by all my beloved friends as we shot each other with squirt guns and shook our booties to Rihanna. I went to a music festival and hugged someone I loved. I took pictures outside of a tobacco shop in Ohio called “Butt Hut.” I shared some delicious meals with my beautiful girlfriend and watched Shakespeare in the park with friends. These are all varying levels of significance, and some of them might seem more frivolous or trivial than others, but they’re all part of the same thing. Finding the time to experience joy and wonder and happiness, acknowledging those feelings, and sharing them with as many people as possible is what it’s all about.

With that in mind, please enjoy The Swim Team’s favorite albums from the last three months. Fifteen releases from fifteen artists, championed by fifteen different people. I hope you find something here to love.

First Day Back – Forward

I’ve been an active participant in the emo scene for well over half my life at this point. I have seen its ebbs and flows, I’ve survived its famine years, and been relishing our current era of bounty. When one spends a long enough time being fully engrossed in the tides of genre, you begin to build a sense of which way the wind may start to blow. When I first heard The Arrival Note’s Vol. 2, I felt the tingle of an air pressure change, a movement in the sky that I surmised to be a harkening back to 90s emo that would find its way into our now burgeoning scene. Well, here we are, the first big gust to usher us towards our next few years of emo revival goodness. Actually, ‘revival’ doesn’t feel quite right. First Day Back’s debut effort is not them attempting to breathe life back into anything; it's all living, breathing experience, days and months and years and scattershot measurements of time clasped between moving string sections, moments pinched between their fret strings, memories weighing heavy on serenades and shouts.

Forward’s modus operandi, it seems, is to just be honest. Honest in feeling, honest in thought, honest in execution, and when all of that honesty starts condensing and collecting across the breadth of the album's thirty-four-minute runtime, the rain cloud accumulating over your spirit gets a spring-kissed summer shower. This album feels like a natural phenomenon in that way, and I think that with time and its tides, some kids in twenty years will point at this band and, through wide-eyed listening sessions of this album, want to find their own way through that same honesty. I'll be happy to press play on that one, too.
– Elias Amini

Turnstile – NEVER ENOUGH

Turnstile’s summer blockbuster record, NEVER ENOUGH, has replenished for me the gigantic stadium rock feel from a band in their prime that I haven’t felt since the mid-2000s. It’s 45 minutes of crowd-pleasing summer rock action that scratches the itch of prime Red Hot Chili Peppers and Foo Fighters. NEVER ENOUGH is fully loaded with explosive melodic riffs and an ample number of sonic twists and turns.

“BIRDS” is an adrenaline-pumping jam if I ever heard one. The song moves faster than a muscle car driven by Dom Toretto; it’s Turnstile at their mosh-pitting best. I just want to break something or at least knock over a traffic cone at full force whenever this song comes on. The transitions are as smooth and seamless – being able to move from chunky guitar riffs to break beats at the drop of a hat makes for a thrilling listening experience. The best example I can give is “LOOK OUT FOR ME,” which flies by at 100 mph with Q101 rock radio riffs, then morphs into a minimalist synth club hit that is full-on transcendent.

This record can be listened to nonstop on runs through the park, while manning the grill, or even while meditating by the pool. NEVER ENOUGH’s sonic versatility is the Swiss-Army knife for rock music.
– David Williams

Careful Gaze – one day this will let you go

Minneapolis rockers Careful Gaze have always been a little messy to categorize as far as genre is concerned. Generally, it’s fair to call them a mix of post-hardcore, metalcore, and heavy indie music. one day this will let you go feels special, shedding all of those labels to do something completely unique within their catalog. What we get is an ambient EP full of sound design, synths, and subdued vocals.

The first track, “you are the strongest that I know,” has a two-minute sound bath before vocalist Gabe Reasoner comes in to silently declare, “You should stay away from me.” They repeat the phrase until you realize that this is a break-up record borne out of the challenge of letting go of people you loved, or perhaps, still love. On the second track, Careful Gaze trades in the subdued energy of track one for trap hi-hats, a handclap snare, and swelling synths, creating a build that demands release in the form of the next song.

It’s on the closing title track where the emotional design of the record really shines. It challenges the listener to break composure while Gabe’s vocal delivery screams out, raising in intensity until the last line, dropping back down to close the record by saying “it’s fucked no matter what,” an acknowledgement that sometimes brokenness is just brokenness. There isn’t much hope here. This is simply the work of a broken person writing about brokenness.

This EP begs a few questions about Careful Gaze’s next full-length record. Will we see more of this lush sound design that’s being spotlighted on this EP? Will we get a resolution for the heartbreak we see here? It’s impossible to know what’s next, but I’m waiting with bated breath to see where this band will be landing when they hit the ground again.
– Noëlle Midnight

Panel – A Great Time to Be an Empath

With each spin of Panel’s debut album, A Great Time to Be an Empath, the more I feel the need to grab someone, shake them, and scream at them about the things Annie Sparrows’ songwriting makes me feel. Throughout this record, Sparrows aches for some sort of relief from the horrors of trying to exist sanely under conditions of absolute reality. The moment that hits the hardest for me is after the second verse of “Victoria” when she gently croons that titular name, and her voice is so full of desperate hope that someday she’ll be able to sit comfortably in her skin. “Victoria” does what I want every new song I hear to do, to leave me breathless and lost for words to describe what just happened and how the hell I could feel all of that in under two minutes. And it is not the only song on the record that makes me feel that way. It can’t be when the record opens the line “Everybody knows that the place to start / is before the end, before the part / where you began to go but you didn’t even know / it was the start of the lights out slip” spoken over a motorik rhythm that perfectly evokes the dissociative numbness that comes with living just to make it through the day and has a piano ballad as its centerpiece about a pets love performed like a lounge act. It’s a great time to listen to A Great Time to Be an Empath.
– Lillian Weber

Forest Spirit, Sun on Your Back – winnowing

One way I try to remember each month is with a playlist of new-to-me music. In May, I heard “Out of Season” by Forest Spirit, Sun on Your Back. It’s from their 2023 debut album, and liberally abuses the stereo audio format to split each guitar beat, giving the song an interesting and intentionally disjointed character. This, among other bit-crushing, oversaturating, and noisy tricks, was intriguing enough for a whole album play. Luckily for me, that same month they released their sophomore LP, winnowing. This second effort explores the softer side of low-fidelity recording. There are still plenty of crunchy crescendos and haphazard buzzings throughout, but each song feels more considered. They back off the chaos of their first album to introduce a meticulous melange, which is acoustic-forward and ever so slightly polished. If you’re a fan of Wednesday, glass beach, or Hey, ILY, you’ll find something to love about Forest Spirit, Sun on Your Back.
– Braden Allmond

The Callous Daoboys – I Don’t Want To See You In Heaven

I’ve had the pleasure of working at a lovely, albeit somewhat niche, museum since October, and I still find new little nooks, crannies, and didactics throughout the exhibits to keep me invested. Being a museum employee also grants complimentary access to other museums, such as The Brooklyn Museum, the Museum of Contemporary Art in Chicago, and the Seattle Art Museum, to name a few. However, one doesn’t need reciprocity to enter the Museum of Failure, an interactive auditory museum curated by the six-piece post-hardcore band The Callous Daoboys.

This museum is sprawling with different exhibits, ranging from the downright ridiculously heavy (“Tears on Lambo Leather,” “Full Moon Guidance,” “The Demon Of Unreality Limping Like A Dog”) to catchy (“Two-Headed Trout,” “Lemon,” “Distracted By The Mona Lisa”) to spacy (“Body Horror For Birds”). Some artifacts scare viewers while others will bring them to tears of laughter like the downright ridiculous A GAGA BOO AAGAA BOO BOO AAGAA in “Idiot Temptation Force.”

The crown jewel of this museum belongs to “III. Country Song In Reverse,” an almost twelve-minute colossus of sounds ranging from a two-minute ambient southern soundscape to thunderous breakdowns to an auto tuned repetition of “I Love You” culminating in frontman Carson Pace screaming, “I am worthy of the ark and I hope to god you can’t swim.”

There’s a lot of laughter, a lot of tears, and a lot of heavy shit in between. Is that not what life is? Beauty may be in the eye of the beholder, but what I marvel at in the Museum of Failure is a group of artists who play to all of their strengths without sacrificing their uniqueness. God bless The Callous Daoboys.
– Samuel Leon

MSPAINT – No Separation

I used to work at a free museum that had a wax-coated sculpture in its sculpture garden. At 2 PM on the dot, every day, a mirrored skyscraper in a different neighborhood would aim a direct beam of light and heat onto this sculpture, melting it. But every day, the museum’s restoration team would fix it—kind of a standing battle with art and capital.

This is the stubborn determination that No Separation from Hattiesburg’s MSPAINT reminds me of. In their last release, 2023’s Post-American, MSPAINT dealt in potential energy, constantly building up momentum and threatening release. In No Separation, they release it, almost leering as they proclaim a positive future amongst the wasteland.

These past couple of months have been inundated with people talking about the boundaries of hardcore, and while all that’s been going on, MSPAINT has been digging under the genre and unearthing the unruly heartbeat that drives the sound. The result? No Separation. So what if it all melts? We’ll rebuild.
– Caro Alt

Pelican – Flickering Resonance

If there’s one theme that echoes throughout Flickering Resonance, Pelican’s first new record in six years, it’s the beginning of a new era for the Chicago metal quartet. Many great artists work in trilogies, such as David Bowie’s series from Berlin in the 1970s, or U2’s collaborations with Brian Eno and Daniel Lanois in the 1980s. Flickering Resonance marks the seventh full-length album from Pelican, and the start of what could be a third album trilogy nearly twenty-five years into their career.

Their dynamic sound, established since 2003’s Australasia and perfected on 2009’s What We All Come To Need, continues through new catalog classics like “Gulch” and “Wandering Mind.” The explosive and theatrical passages on “Cascading Crescent” and “Pining For Ever” fill the room with whatever speakers they’re blasting on, helping paint a soaring, loud rock landscape with the rest of the LP. Pelican has been one of my home city’s most important bands to me, and their staying power has only strengthened with the release of Flickering Resonance, unleashed to a dark world now made much brighter.
– Logan Archer Mounts

Arm’s Length – There's A Whole World Out There

At this point, there are few members left in the emo cognoscenti to sway regarding Arm’s Length’s mastery of the craft. Signing to genre-behemoth Pure Noise Records was merely a stepping stone before unleashing their sophomore LP, There’s A Whole World Out There, a record that features the group proving they’re anything but a one-album wonder. Admittedly, I was optimistically wary at first listen, because how does a group one-up a generational debut like Never Before Seen, Never Again Found? Thankfully, I was completely enamored by the rebuttal album on release day. What makes the Canada-based unit special is their knack for crafting something comprehensive and cohesive.

As is common in the emo genre, the band's initial full-length, NBSNAF, was lyrically condemned by its nostalgia-drunk tilt. The feeling is a drug – hard to quit and easy to get lost in. However, Arm’s Length find their way out on their newest LP, rooting themselves firmly in the present. Vocalist Allen Steinberg writes from hindsight's perspective this time around, and while this album is still very much sad, it takes a different outlook on it. Such is evident on heavy-hitting cuts like “The Wound,” where Steinberg pleads, “Time will heal me, will I stick around to see it?”

If I had to whittle down this album to 300 words or less (which is what I’m attempting), I’d say it’s largely about being overtly self-aware and viewing past mistakes through a magnifying lens. Being aware enough to recognize and admit that, yeah, there is a whole world out there waiting for me, but right now, it appears too large for me to conquer. So, this album begs the question: if there is a whole world out there, where do we go from here?
– Brandon Cortez

honeybee – midtown girl

A dynamic, warm indie rock record that feels like locking eyes with a beloved friend across a crowded party, right when they walk in the door. Chock full of 90s influences, beautifully produced, and adorned with some of the most confusingly tight harmonies of the year, midtown girl is the sound of a band loosening up—and shifting into a new gear as a result. It’s fun, it’s efficient, it’s a lovely companion to 2024’s Saturn Return, and it sounds perfect in whichever Midtown you’re closest to.

Regarding the 90’s influences, honeybee lead singer/songwriter Makayla Scott said, “There are just these things that are ingrained in a lot of us because that's what we grew up on...it is an amalgamation of everything that I've ever known and loved, which is 90’s Country and also a lot of Y2K Pop music. Avril, Ashlee Simpson, and then some Alanis Morissette, some Liz Phair. I'm not making direct references, but the references are just there because that's what I grew up loving and learning from.”

honeybee aimed for authenticity with midtown girl. The heart and the feeling both come through, not only lyrically but with the passion and intentionality of the vocals and instrumentals. “With midtown girl, Ian Dobyns, who is the co-producer, engineer, mixer…was really coaching me this time to deliver feeling, and to not worry about precision. So now, when I listen back on these vocal takes, there are things that I would consider not technically perfect, but the whole vibe of the song and the record feel perfect.”
– Caleb Doyle

Hayden Pedigo – I’ll Be Waving As You Drive Away

In the Sacramento Valley, heat waves slither atop the molten asphalt, and mirages shimmer among the brittle grasses. The violently warm air chaps my lungs from the inside, but at least it’s a dry heat. (That’s what they say, anyway.) To cope with the arid western summer, I have found myself spinning the perfect album for such weather: I’ll Be Waving As You Drive Away by Hayden Pedigo. This instrumental folk record is a yellow-gold masterpiece, with guitar melodies that wrap you in a woolen embrace and bring grassy mirages to life. From nostalgic pieces like “Houndstooth” to the atmospheric title track, Hayden’s skillful playing will pull at your heart and tighten your chest. You’re not even sure what you’re sad about, but you feel a great and cosmic grief weighing on your shoulders. His writing is dotted with delicate phrasing and sparingly placed harmonics that feel just right, demonstrating masterful restraint. “Smoked” is the stand-out track: melancholy wanderings and improvisation, divided by pauses that feel like a sigh, prove Hayden’s exemplary storytelling. I take a deep breath. My lungs hurt, and it smells like scorched dust. But at least it’s a dry heat.
– Britta Joseph

Ribbon Skirt – Bite Down

The first time I heard Bite Down, I found myself helplessly mesmerized. I had few things to compare it to, but midway through “Dead Horse,” I realized the closest reference point I could pull was Japanese Breakfast’s “Diving Woman.” Both songs serve similar purposes as their respective albums’ transportive opening tracks, slowly unfurling and welcoming the listener into the world that the band inhabits. The thing with Bite Down is that feeling didn’t let up. As the Anishinaabe group phases from the spooky hyperventilated breathing of “Cellophane” to the groovy wink of “Off Rez,” I remained spellbound. There’s the piercing scream near the end of “Wrong Planet,” the carefree post-punk bop of “Look What You Did,” and then the apocalyptic world-ending reset of “Earth Eater.” Throughout it all, the band captures a unique sense of displacement, betrayal, and perseverance that feels authentic to who this group of musicians are culturally and creatively. A rock record unlike any others this year or ever before.
– Taylor Grimes

Hemmingway Lane – “Shattered Glass”

I am from just south of Michigan, about 15 minutes from the border, and something about the state always seemed magical to me. It was this place just out of reach and out of time, and I have been chasing that nostalgic high ever since. I was able to find it again last year when Hemmingway Lane reached out to me and asked me to cover their EP Let The Flowers Die. They liked the review so much that I was able to hear “Shattered Glass” as an unmixed phone demo many months ago, and I have been eagerly awaiting its release ever since. I am pleased to report that the full song exceeds expectations in every way. In the past, Hemmingway Lane has focused on a slower indie rock sound that is reminiscent of The Backseat Lovers; however, on this track, they unlock something new in their sound.

“Shattered Glass” is a song about the time someone threw a rock through lead singer Elijah Flood’s back windshield. However, like all art, it takes on a deeper meaning, one of truly accepting the place you are in life. It is the kind of concept that really sticks with me as I enter the period of my life where I am realizing that I am no longer who I once was, and I never will be again. It will just take some time, but eventually I'll take the shards of my splintered existence and put them into something new and beautiful.
– Ben Parker

Momma – Welcome to My Blue Sky

The fourth studio album by Los Angeles-based Indie rock band Momma is one of those records that hit me pretty casually upon first listen, but am now regularly throwing on at work when I gain control of the aux both as a small comfort to myself and also like I’m teaching the patrons of the bustling cafe what Indie rock music is truly capable of being. Moody lyrics about love and longing delicately accompany some of the surprisingly punchiest riffs I’ve heard in a while. Heavy hitters like “Rodeo” steadily planted themselves in my brain until I realized this is one of the best albums I’ve heard all year in some unexpected, beautiful Stockholm syndrome effect. So much of this album’s power lies in the atmosphere created by tracks like “Stay All Summer,” which constantly oscillates between subtle strums and shrieking guitar tones, along with the eerie electronic effects of sleepy comforts like “New Friend.” One of the singles from the album, “Bottle Blonde,” specifically commands the utmost attention and places Welcome to My Blue Sky in the upper echelon of 2025’s offerings. The nostalgic melodies, instrumentation, and composition of this powerhouse remind me of my favorite “girl rock” bands of the late 90s and early 00s and could not be more at home in a well-patronized coffee shop or blaring from your bedroom speakers while you paint your nails and try to expunge your ex from your thoughts. As we launch headlong into the summer, there is no better time to spin this emotive collection of fair-weather hits.
– Ciara Rhiannon

PinkPantheress – Fancy That

Resident pop Swimmer reporting for duty. I was less than impressed with PinkPantheress’s sophomore LP, 2023’s heaven knows. Too minimal for my liking; I needed an oversaturation of elements to have even the slightest chance of stopping The Thoughts. “Tonight,” Pink’s first single of the year, was everything I thought heaven knows wasn’t—thumping, bubbly, clubby, relentless, addictive. The kind of song you hear playing in your head as you stick your head out the window of the Uber home. The rest of Fancy That matches that energy, stacking sample upon sample as Pink skates across house-adjacent trip-pop backbeats with her signature veil of indifference. “Illegal” is already going down as my song of the year—I’m convinced the opening synths could bring me back from the dead. I love this mixtape so much that I waited 35 minutes in a queue to secure tickets for her tour. She’s just doing it for me right now. See you in October, queen!
– Cassidy Sollazzo

December 29, 2021

Swim Into The Sound's 15 Favorite Albums of 2021

December 29, 2021/ Taylor Grimes

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

December 28, 2018

Swim Into The Sound’s 10 Favorite Albums of 2018

December 28, 2018/ Taylor Grimes

All Hail The Algorithm

If there was any sort of theme to 2018, it was Discovery. Discovery on a personal level, discovery on a professional level, and (most importantly) discovery on a musical level. This year I landed a new job, moved across the country, and started a new life three thousand miles away from everything I’ve ever known and loved. I met people I would never have crossed paths with otherwise and experienced things that only this opportunity could have afforded me.

On the blog front, I kept up to date by writing about new releases each month. I conducted my first interview, got paid actual money to write reviews, and hit dozens of other landmark firsts that made running this blog feel like a fresh, rewarding, and challenging endeavor all throughout the year.

As 2018 ticked on and my album of the year list began to take shape, an interesting trend emerged: most of my favorite albums of 2018 were from band’s I’d never listened to until this year.

Discoveries can be found in the most unexpected places, and sometimes coming into something entirely fresh leads to the most impactful results. Whether it’s discovering a band live in-concert, reading a compelling review, or hearing them pop up in a Spotify playlist, there’s something rewarding about that feeling of discovery.

These are the albums that helped me. The projects that brought me joy, sorrow, pain, and everything in between in a year when emotions ran high, and everything seemed bound for cosmic change. These albums are the soundtrack to the development of my life. A year in flux and a life in motion. These are my favorite albums of 2018.

10 | Advance Base - Animal Companionship

On some level, it’s easy to make songs that anyone can relate to. The biggest pop songs in the world are all about falling in love, or breaking up, or hanging out with your friends. Those are universal experiences. They’re songs written so broadly that’s you have to go out of your way to not connect with them. What’s more difficult than that is instilling that same feeling of connection through a life that the listener hasn’t experienced. To convey a sense of empathy through a portrayal so specific that, while not experienced first-hand, it loops back around to being relatable. That’s what Advance Base has done with Animal Companionship, and it’s a marvel.

A loose concept album centered around pets, Animal Companionship finds Owen Ashworth rumbling through a series of ten tales all depicting a handful of ordinary Midwesterners. While their stories would sound bland being told in any other way, the Chicago folk singer has a way of delivering them which such gravitas and specificity that they become extraordinary. His vocals never rise above a steady barrel-chested hum, but emotions run high throughout the record.

Often accompanied only by keys or a solitary drum machine, Ashworth’s voice (and words) are almost always front and center for the listener to ingest and ruminate upon at their own pace. The tales are crystalline, realized, and lived-in as if Ashworth himself has lived all of these disparate timelines and experiences of the album’s fictional characters. Whether it’s running into an ex’s dog tied up outside of a coffee shop, or a friend who still has an answering machine just so they can leave their pet voicemails, every word is measured and impactful. It’s a frigid-sounding record that, yes, is sad, but is also sprinkled with moments of hope and even joy. It’s a portrayal of humanity framed through the animals who, through their proximity to us and our lives, make us a little more human in the process.

9 | Hop Along - Bark Your Head Off, Dog

I’ve spent about three years trying to understand the appeal of Hop Along. Between the time they released 2015’s Painted Shut and this year I’ve listened to every one of their albums multiple times and even seen them live, but for some reason, the band never stuck. Right when I was about to write them off telling myself “you don’t have to like everything” the group released Bark Your Head Off, Dog and everything finally clicked into place.

While it took me a while to figure out, my biggest problem with Hop Along has always been that Frances Quinlan’s vocals are so good they overshadow everything else in most of their songs. There’s nothing wrong with the group’s instrumentals; I would just rather hear Quinlan sing over something that rivals her intensity.

I gave Bark Your Head Off a few cursory listens before the final stretch of three songs began to sink their teeth into me. They were biting, fast-paced, and had enough ornamental flourishes that they rewarded repeat listens. They felt emotional and heartfelt while still retaining the personable stories Quinlan is known for. In short, the final three songs on this record were everything I’d been waiting to hear from Hop Along for years.

Something about those three tracks must have opened my eyes because I eventually found myself listening to Bark Your Head Off, Dog front to back and being captivated by every track. I now realize the fault in my prior attempts was not the band, but me. I was looking for aggressive smoldering pop-punk songs, but in truth Hop Along is crafting loving (if not a little damaged) indie rock with a folk bent. It’s the musical equivalent of a glass of red wine, and either my taste was not refined enough to enjoy it before, or I came into their music thirsty for a cheap beer when I should have been savoring the complicated notes. Bark Your Head Off, Dog is a triumphant and passionate record that’s beautiful, rich, and worth savoring.

8 | Turnstile - Time & Space

Clocking in at a grand total of 25 minutes, the longest song on Turnstile’s Time & Space is three minutes and 15 seconds. With every other track hovering between 46 seconds and two minutes, the album ends up feeling like an exercise in violent minimalism.

Making a name for their photogenic live shows, engaging crowds, and hard-hitting songs, Time & Space vaulted Turnstile to the forefront of the underground rock scene. The record itself is picture-perfect hardcore and irrefutable proof that you don’t need anything more than a solid riff and a driving chorus to make great music.

Not only that, the band’s sophomore effort proved to be surprisingly-accessible, gaining them coverage, accolades, and glowing reviews from dozens of mainstream publications. Walking an intoxicating balance of punk and thrash, Time & Space is an outpouring of emotion. It’s barebones, straightforward, and efficient. It’s artistically-fulfilling, temperamentally-satiating, and even surprisingly catchy at times. It’s everything hardcore needs in 2018, and proof of what it can one day be.

7 | The Wonder Years - Sister Cities

When I saw the Wonder Years back in May, lead singer Dan Campbell took some time between songs to make sure everyone had heard their newest album. After the resounding swell of voices quieted, he went on to explain a bit about the concept behind Sister Cities, specifically how the opening track “Raining in Kyoto” embodies many of the LP’s recurring themes. “It’s a record about connectivity, commonality, and empathy” Campbell explained to the rapt Portland audience.

Sister Cities is a record about distance, but it's also a record about lack of distance. It's about the commonalities of man and the universal things that bind us as a race, about how little the physical space between people really matters when it comes down to it. Sister Cities is an album about human connection on a physical, emotional, and spiritual level.

While it's reinforced by music videos and lyrics throughout this album, this concept of connectivity is exemplified best by the record’s 6-minute closer “The Ocean Grew Hands to Hold Me.” In the song, Campbell uses the ocean as a stand-in for multiple important entities in his life. At first, the ocean is spoken of literally as a physical body of water that we're all attached to in some form or another. As the song plays out, the ocean becomes a metaphor for the brotherhood of humanity and the salvation we can find in our loved ones.

Thematically, “Ocean” ties back to the opening track by referencing the passing of Dan's grandfather, but even that specific event is just a larger allusion to life, death, regret, and other inescapable human feelings that bond us together. The final verse of the song discusses illness and religion (two recurring topics for the band) but quickly moves onto real people in Dan's life. He talks about finding support in others when he needs it and learning to embrace that. Before a grandiose swell of music carries the record to a close, the final message of the album is a vital one: humanity is everything. Campbell explains there’s no fault in feeling defeated or asking for help. In fact, learning to give in when things are out of your control and growing to rely on those around you is an important part of life because sometimes that’s all we have.

6 | Mom Jeans - Puppy Love

If you were to ask Eric Butler what type of music Mom Jeans makes, he would simply answer “pop.” Not emo, not indie, not pop-punk, but straight-up pop music. In truth, Mom Jeans is a little bit of all these things, but if you go into Puppy Love with an honest heart and an open mind, you’ll quickly understand exactly what he means.

The band’s sophomore album is a release that appears unassuming on first listen. You might hear it a few times and think nothing of it. Then you may find yourself humming a melody that subconsciously embedded itself somewhere in your brain. Then on a relisten, a chorus from a deeper cut will grab you, and you’ll find yourself queueing that song up too. Then you find yourself identifying with a lyric from the opening track about staying in, eating Cheetos, and drinking chocolate milk because that’s exactly what you were doing this weekend too.

Puppy Love is my most-listened-to album of 2018, and that’s because Mom Jeans truly are creating pop music. It’s pop-punk perfected. It’s catchy, melodic, relatable, and keeps you coming back for more. Whether it’s screaming about moving out of your parent's house, or getting confessional with your dog, Mom Jeans have found a way to get to the heart of it all.

5 | Lucy Dacus - Historian

Historian is the soundtrack to a life in decay. Opening track “Night Shift” starts calm and collected as a slow-moving folky jam extending a middle finger to evil exes. Gradually, the song builds without the listener realizing it, and suddenly Dacus is belting out the track’s namesake in a piercing Julien Baker-esque cry that pulls on your heart like an anchor. It’s a stunning moment that commands your attention and rips you into the reality of the song, if only for a moment.

This jaw-dropping performance is just one of many surprises packed on the follow-up to Dacus’ impressive debut No Burden. Topics range from relationships in collapse to the imperfect nature of the self. It’s as disquieting as it is engaging, every word hinged around expert instrumentation and melodies that alternate between lying bare and exploding to life.

“Pillar of Truth” is the record’s monumental penultimate track, an ode to Dacus’ dying grandmother who faced the unknown head-on with level-headed composure. The song peaks with a volcanic guitar solo that paves the way for the more pensive title track which acts as the record’s thesis statement and end credits. Historian is an album about failure. About collapse. About annihilation. More importantly, it’s about finding the power to recover from those feelings even when life leaves you feeling ragged and profoundly-alone… which is more of an inevitability than any of us would like to admit.

4 | Caroline Rose - Loner

Sometimes it’s easy to forget that rock music is supposed to be fun. And throughout all of 2018, I found no single album that embodied “FUN!” (caps, exclamation point and all) than Caroline Rose’s Loner.

Loner is an album about being your uncool self and learning to embrace it. About saying ‘fuck you’ to the people that tell you to smile when you don’t want to smile. About sexism, bad decisions, and menial jobs. About being the one person at the party without a cool haircut. It’s a blend of hyper-specific yet universal songwriting that hits home for me, all of which is packed in an easily digestible 30-minute record.

While the album itself is a wonderfully-varied and full-throttle romp, Caroline Rose’s live show adds a different level onto the proceedings entirely. From executing a flawless Macarena on-stage during an instrumental break to a rockin’ recorder solo, and even a loving cover of Britney Spears’ “Toxic,” I’ve never seen a band have this much fun on stage making music, and that’s something we could all use more of in 2018.

3 | Bambara - Shadow On Everything

You wake up. A light breeze has blown the covers off of your body. You reach out to grab your sheets and pull them back up, but as your eyes open you notice you’re no longer in your room. You sit up, look around and see the horizon in every direction. You’re in the middle of a desert. It’s 3 in the morning, and you don’t know how you got here. That’s what listening to Shadow On Everything is like.

Rumbling, snarling, and demonic, Shadow On Everything is a post-punk record with a southern twist. Described by the band as a “western gothic concept album,” it only takes one listen to see what that means. From front to back, Bambara’s sophomore effort is a morbid, disorienting, and dream-like exploration of humanity’s dark side.

Shadow on Everything sounds like an episode of True Detective come to life, complete with all the violent self-destruction, overwrought sentiments, and foreboding imagery. Each song serves as a disturbing vignette, bonded together only by the ever-present sense that something horrible is lurking in the shadows just out of sight. It’s terrifying, engaging, and striking in a way that grips your attention and punishes you for looking away. A character study of humanity’s dark side and we have no choice but to stare into the reflection. Unforgiving desolation and absolute obliteration of the soul.

2 | Haley Heynderickx - I Need To Start A Garden

We tend to measure our lives based on major events. When we tell ourselves our own story there are act breaks and demarcation points that signal a new phase of our ongoing story. While it feels like we’re perpetually in the most “important” period of our own existence, not everything is that life and death. Sometimes directionlessness and absence of action are just as harrowing as loss or heartbreak, and that sort of millennial malaise is the exact sentiment at the heart of I Need To Start a Garden.

The abundance of choice that comes with the first phase of adulthood is overwhelming. The sprawling omnidirectional decisions can feel endless, and sometimes failing to take that first step can lead to a cataclysmic avalanche of self-doubt and paralysis.

Garden is a folk album. It’s instrumentally-simple, lyrically straightforward, and emotionally-bare. Despite the simplicity of its base components, the end result feels like something much more complex and grand than the sum of its parts.

I first heard of Haley Heynderickx one week after her album was released, and even then I felt immediate guilt of not having listened to it even earlier. That’s how badly I needed this record in my life in 2018. I turned around a full review of the album within a month of its release, but Heynderickx’s messages of listless 20-something pain cut a path directly into my heart at a time when I was experiencing all of these exact feelings. To hear these struggles put to music was not only reassuring, it was spiritually-affirming.

I now realize the difference between childhood and adulthood isn’t a feeling of assurance or confidence in your actions because that fear of the unknown never truly goes away. I may have felt listless, disheartened, and directionless this spring, but now having moved across the country, starting a new job, and embarking on new artistic endeavors, I’m just as unsure of myself as ever before. Adulthood is not knowing what you’re doing with one-hundred percent certainty. Adulthood is knowing that feeling of uncertainty is always going to be there, acknowledging it, and being okay with it as much as you possibly can.

1 | Fiddlehead - Springtime and Blind

Sometimes music is the only thing that makes sense. Even when the world is changing, even when nothing works the way it’s supposed to, even when life throws everything it has at you, music is always there. Music has no judgments and no preconceived notions. It’s an objective outlet that exists to execute, quell, accentuate, or invert whatever mood you’re feeling at that time. There’s music for happiness, music for long drives, music for love, and sometimes there’s music for grief.

Some of the greatest records of all time deal with insurmountable pain. 40-minute voyages into an artist’s psyche in the wake of a great loss or seismic shift of their day-to-day existence. Alums like Carrie & Lowell, A Crow Looked At Me, and Skeleton Tree are not only albums about death, they also happen to be some of the best in their respective artist's discographies because they feel the most human. While Springtime and Blind might not initially sound as “sad” as any of those records listed above, it deals with the same topic from a unique perspective that ends up making its message all the more powerful.

Springtime and Blind begins with a slowly-mounting drumline that’s soon joined by a grief-ridden cry of “YOU LIE AWAKE / to pass the time / Lose all your love? / Want some of mine?” Allegedly improvised in the album’s recording session, this first message bears the brunt of the record’s emotion and ignites the path for the remaining twenty-some minutes.

They’re not the same genre, but if I were to compare this album to anything, I’d name Japanese Breakfast’s 2016 breakthrough Psychopomp. Both records are under 25 minutes, segmented by meditative instrumentals, and waste no time jumping straight into heart-wrenching lyrics. Just as Psychopomp is an album about a daughter losing her mother, Springtime is an album about a son losing his father. They’re inverted experiences, yet still one and the same; two alternating approaches to the same universal experience of grief and loss that we will all must go through at some point.

On some level, screamed frustration is a more accurate depiction of loss than sad, reserved folk music. Not to discount the inherent beauty of Carrie & Lowell, but everyone experiences loss differently, and Springtime and Blind offers a very authentic and genuine version of loss that I identify with.

Sometimes change is a choice, but more often than not life forces change upon you. You’re forced to adapt and overcome or risk collapsing in the process. Some things can’t be changed or reversed, and all that’s left is to pick up the pieces and cling tightly to what’s left. That’s what Springtime and Blind offers. A family recovering. An explosion of grief followed by the first step of many toward recovery. It’s the sound of everything happening at once. The sound of birth and death. Of love and life. Of spirit and demons. And then it ends.

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