A Message to The Haters: Raven, The Acid Bath Princess of the Darkness on Being Emo, Growing Up Online, and What To Do When Nobody Gets the Joke

Originally published in Emo Trash, March 2021 

We have a New Years’ Eve tradition on the internet. Every December- sometimes in May, or August, or October, any time we need a laugh- a 5-second clip makes its way around social media. It’s a video of two girls wishing us a happy new year, decked out in period-appropriate ‘00s goth makeup and lamenting about how much they just don’t care about the holiday.

It’s 2008, almost 2009, and they announce it with little enthusiasm. In the short clip that’s usually shared, there’s a moment of doubt about just how much of the video is a joke. After all, we were like that once, adamant that wearing liquid black eyeliner on our lower lash lines was a good idea and that Tim Burton’s art was just really really cool, okay? 

The video, A Shout Out From Tara and Raven, is a parody that feels close to home. After making it clear that 2009 means nothing to them, they go on to address their “haters”, list off their likes (being goth, Edward Cullen, MCR and AFI) and dislikes (preps, jocks, and of course- haters), to wish us a “crappy new year” as MCR’s “Disenchanted” plays in the background. They remind us that they are Raven, the Acid Bath Princess of The Darkness, and Tara, before signing off. 

It’s the third upload on their channel, xXblo0dyxkissxX, and would have remained lost to the internet had it not gone viral in recent years (It’s worth mentioning that the video currently has 66k likes and 6k dislikes.) Before the two went out with an unintentional bang, they uploaded more videos, including one titled A Message To The Haters, where the two of them blink silently at the camera for four minutes while Ashley Tisdale’s cover of “Never Gonna Give You Up” plays on a loop. 

Behind xXblo0dyxkissxX was a girl named Sarah, who recently admitted to making the videos with her sister as a joke. Now 31 and a professional dominatrix, she’s spent the new year dealing with surprisingly positive reactions to a misunderstood YouTube persona, and figuring out what to do next. Her Twitter bio proudly reads “Fake emo turned adult emo;” we talked about how she ended up there.


How did you get into emo music when you were younger, and how or why did you revisit it as an adult? I feel like a lot of people have really funny stories about the moment they were like, oh my god- this music is scary, but I'm into it. 
When I was emo as a kid I never wanted to call myself emo- I was goth. At the time, this was around 2002, nobody really wanted to be “emo”, I guess. Goths were tough and emos were whiny and angsty and stuff, and I was angsty. I lived in a small town in east Texas, and I think that if I were open about, you know, being emo, people would have just called me goth anyway, there wasn’t that much difference in subcultures there. 

I did grow up in a home where my media was heavily censored, so I wasn’t really allowed to listen to my own music. If I wanted to listen to something, it had to be like, screened through my dad. One time, for example: Linkin Park was a somewhat safe band, for some reason, and one time my dad had printed out some of the lyrics, one of the lines was talking about “walking on eggshells” or something, and my dad sat me down and he was like, “Do you really feel like this?” and it sucked, it really sucked, because I wanted to listen to all of this stuff, and I couldn’t really do it. I was already this kid who, like, wasn’t allowed to watch pg-13 movies….it was very over-protective. I don’t really remember what got me started on the music, but I did have friends with more normal parents and a more normal access to music, and they would share things with me. 

I do remember that in 5th grade I went to this science based summer camp, one of the counselors wore a Dead Kennedys shirt. I didn’t know what Dead Kennedys were, but I just remember thinking, “holy shit, this guy is so fucking cool.” After that summer camp I did start wanting to explore a little more, explore that side of myself. I do know that because everything I ingested was so censored and so limited I didn’t have as wide of a range of exposure as I do now. There is a little part of it that makes it more exciting, in a way.

You get a chance to do it over again!
Yeah, yeah! So, how I got back into it: Tara is my sister. We made the videos to make fun of ourselves for our own emo phases. The videos were my idea, I convinced her to play along. After my emo phase from 12-14 I started getting more into punk. After I got into AFI, I started going back and listening to their older [heavier] albums, but to go from Sing the Sorrow to like, the Casualties and Rancid, especially when you’re fifteen...it’s embarrassing. You start to become a little embarrassed at what you used to be like. 

So, I wanted some sort of career in comedy, YouTube was new, I’d spent some time on 4Chan, I was familiar with trolling. I wanted to troll people, so I convinced Tara to create these characters that made fun of our former selves. At the time, even though we weren’t emo, we still had our fair share of mental health problems; I’ve been depressed and anxious for as long as I can remember. 

After Tara and I stopped filming together, we went off to college, we started doing these rock-outs in the car. We only go to see each other once a year, and it started out as a joke, like, remember those videos we used to make, wanna scream along to Good Charlotte together? So that started out as a joke, and it became one of those things that I started doing on my own as a form of comfort, just putting on the music and listening to it. 

I got started again through Good Charlotte’s first two albums. Those were like a security blanket for me, and I recognized that it was so weird that I was going back to something that I had once been so ashamed of. When I was 21, 22, I had this car that only had a cassette player, and I scoured Ebay until I found those Good Charlotte albums on cassette; I needed them SO badly. So I had my Good Charlotte cassettes mixed in with my Dead Kennedys, I had some Henry Rollins spoken word stuff...it was something I started listening to whenever I was anxious to calm myself down, and it was really comforting. 

That gave way to me exploring other things I liked at the time, and it gradually progressed into an acceptance of “emo.” I started jokingly referring to myself as an adult emo around 2016, and it wasn’t until 2018 that I started to embrace it. I guess the simplest way to explain it would be that I went through an emo phase, was super embarrassed about it, made fun of it, returned to cheesy pop-punk, and slowly grew into an adult emo. I think a lot of that just came with personal growth, just this personal acceptance that I am a very emotional person, and this is the music that I relate to. 

“Emo” used to be kind of an insult.
Oh, yeah!

It’s funny now, but we all took it super seriously back then! I was definitely emo in high school, but if anybody called me that, I’d get really offended. Kids used to get really hung up on social stereotyping, but you don’t really hear people using that language anymore. 
Yeah. 

I remember one time, this must have been 2007, my friend told me, “Robin, you’re skinny so you could be a prep, but you’re just too weird.” and I was like...what does that mean? I know you’ve said your emo phase was more when you were younger, did you notice or take part in any of that stuff, or were the rest of high school pretty normal for you socially? 
Oh, no. I was always the weird one, hands down. To give some examples: In third grade I didn’t have any friends to hang out with during recess, so I just hung out and talked with the teachers….I wanted to be a Herpetologist when I was a kid, I had a glow in the dark Albert Einstein shirt, I was bringing snakes to show and tell. I was never cool, I was never the one that people wanted to hang out with. I’d come to school on Monday and realize that like, all of the girls in class had a sleepover that weekend except for me. I just wasn’t cool, ever. I think that my emo phase, my goth phase was sort of an attempt at protecting myself- but even then, I was the first mall goth at my middle school, so I got made fun of for that. 

Even when I was out of my emo phase, I turned into a weird theater kid. I spent most of my time in high school just writing, writing sketches, writing stories, doing dumb funny shit with Tara, filming videos with my friends. I didn’t have a very normal teenage experience in that I didn’t date, I didn’t go to parties, I spent a lot of time just being creative and being weird and just enjoying all of it. There was a time in college where I fell into a group of nerdy friends, and they were all cooler than me, they dressed better than me, and I thought things would be different if I shopped at Express. So, I shopped at Express, and it didn’t change anything!

Do you think that you and your sister would have received a more positive response if you were making those videos today? TikTok is popular, we have more people, more young women doing front-facing camera comedy. 
Without a doubt, for so many reasons. I think that culturally, things have changed considerably. This also ties into a point about emo: Culturally, a lot of things have changed. I think that younger people are a lot more empathetic, young people are a lot more progressive. They know that you can’t make fun of someone for being gay, they know that you can’t make fun of someone for, you know, being autistic. There’s just so much more basic human decency there. 

Social media as a whole was still pretty new, and especially on YouTube, it was a lot easier to hide behind this separate account and you’d get away with it, but now, youtube is owned by Google, you use Google to sign into everything, it’s a lot harder to get away with that stuff, because your account is tied to so many things. With my generation anyway, we grew up with the internet but it wasn't always there, whereas younger generations grew up with the internet and social media always being there. They were all really new and really exciting when I was a teenager, but because they’ve grown up with these things, they’ve been taught that you don’t get to be a dick to people on the internet. 

Something that I’ve noticed, for example: Azer, a brief costar in our videos, uses they/them pronouns. In the comments section of Instagram or wherever, someone will say something about Azer and use the wrong pronouns, but someone else will reply to that comment and go “hey, just an FYI, they use they/them pronouns!” and then the other person is gonna reply and go “Shit, I didn't know, I’m so sorry!” We would not have done that on youtube in 2007. 

As a whole, mental health has become less taboo to talk about. If people aren’t comfortable talking to their friends in person about their anxiety or their depression or whatever, they can still talk about it online, and I think because people talk about it online more, it normalizes it; it’s okay to have feelings, it’s okay to be an emotional person. So, that brings me back to my point, about emo being cool again. 

Did your online presence extend elsewhere during that time, or was there more of a safe distance between you and others? Did you ever become close with anyone that way when you were younger? 
Yeah, totally. As a not very popular child, all of a sudden being able to meet people online, that was great. I made a friend on Xanga when I was fifteen, we’re still friends, we still talk to each other every now and then….I had multiple MySpaces, I was a pretty early Facebook user. “Raven” was my only real attempt at having a channel. 

Youtube was a lot different back then; you had your flash animations going around like Salad Fingers, you had people uploading their own little skits. Did you have any favorites, as someone making your own content? 
I remember YouTube in 2005, I discovered that there were old music videos there. I didn’t have cable growing up, my media was really censored. When I was fifteen or so I found music videos on there, and that was what really stuck out to me as being like, the most magical thing. There was a period of my life in 2005 where I would watch the music video for the Smashing Pumpkins song “Today,” every day before school. 

That’s a good start, that’s a good one. 
Yeah, yeah! I had like, the lyrics printed out and on my wall. I was talking to one of my friends about this, she was mentioning how YouTube was such a different place back then. The few sketches we could think of were all produced by men. A question she asked me was, “Who was the first woman you saw on youtube being genuinely funny?” We noticed that in those early days, if women were on youtube, they were being laughed at, not laughed with. 

Videos that went viral at the time, they were reinforcing that stereotype that women are emotional, and this is why it’s so funny. An example that we thought of was the Cara Cunningham “leave Britney alone” video. We realized that it got so much traction because here was a person being emotional, and also queer, and not being straight was a bigger thing then, too. So we talked a lot about how homophobia and misogyny led to “leave britney alone.” 

I was looking back through some of those comments, and I know you’ve probably talked about this a lot- but people were really concerned with you being “cringe”. It seems like most of the people who left nasty comments were also the ones who didn’t get the joke, and even then, they were weirdly angry about the idea of a couple of goth kids goofing off in front of the camera. What is so bad about being cringe? Is there anything else embarrassing you did as a teenager outside of youtube? 
I don’t consider my youtube channel embarrassing. I was doing it as a joke, I was doing it to troll people. I think the cringe comments came a little bit later. The initial comments we got were a lot more aggressive. Do I think things would be different today? Yes, I do. I think that some people really didn’t...there were definitely some people who got the joke. We got a number of comments from people who were like, oh my god, you guys are hilarious, this is comedy...The comments that I remember, though, before that, there were a lot that were unnecessarily violent. There were a ton of comments telling us to kill ourselves, that we should have been aborted, Azer was subjected to so much homophobia. I think that because we were young people- and I looked considerably younger than I was- there was also ageism coming into play. Kids aren’t really given an opportunity to be funny unless they’re being funny for other kids. 

I think a lot of that has changed, but back then, people saw those videos, I’ve got a natural intensity, so they assumed. I knew what to do and say to piss people off, and it worked! I was expecting comments more along the lines of, oh my god, ya’ll are posers, you call yourselves goth but you listen to Simple Plan. Instead, people saw young women...at the time, emo kids, alt kids, mall goths, they were everyone’s punchline. You combine all of these things, and it elicited something really vile and hateful from so many people. It was one of the reasons why Tara and I wanted to keep everything a secret for as long as possible. 

There’s a difference between “your jokes aren’t funny” and “oh my god, you are everything that’s wrong with society, go kill yourself you fat, ugly bitch,” and we were getting those comments every single day. What started out as something funny at first, over the course of ten to twelve years, if you’re exposed to that, it starts to become more personal. 

A large part of why we didn’t want to come forward was because we stopped reading the comments a long time ago. We didn’t pay attention because we didn’t want to see that shit again. I only came out in the first place because people had begun to link Raven to my dominatrix persona, Petra. Over the past few years, people would approach me and ask me if I was her, but because I made my character so much younger than I was, it was easy for me to deny it.

That’s got to be complicated, that makes sense. 
Yeah, so for the past twelve years or so, I was under the impression that we had created something that I personally thought was hilarious, but nobody thought was funny at all. Because the comments were so negative, I just assumed that if anyone linked the two, it would be like 2008 youtube all over again, that my work accounts would be spammed with all of this shit. Why would I allow any of that to permeate this persona that I’ve crafted for work- a persona that’s supposed to be this, like, all-powerful woman? 

I assumed that coming forward would be really bad for business. I was expecting to have to lock down social media until everything blew over. Towards the end of December 2020, there had been this sort of mystery surrounding Tara and Raven, this sort of internet manhunt trying to find out who we were. I was worried that if I didn’t out myself, that somebody would dox me in ways that were really damaging to me, but they wouldn’t have known what they were doing, because they were so caught up in that excitement and wanted to get that pat on the back. So, I came out as a preventative measure. I had no idea that I would be this well received, I had no idea that people liked the videos, that they thought I was funny. 

For the past twelve years I thought I’d created something that I thought was really funny, but nobody else thought was funny, and they hated it so much that they thought I should kill myself because of it! To be met with all of this positivity and interest and be told that people have liked my videos for years and they’ve thought I was funny for years, that’s such a weird mindfuck.

I think what’s so endearing- I hadn’t seen the other videos before, what always got me about the New Years’ video- you almost can’t tell if it’s a joke or not, and I’ve always enjoyed it because we were like that. We were all like that at one point, and then we started to get embarrassed. I’m glad they’re still up, they’re nice to look back on.
That’s really good to hear, I never thought that people found them so relatable. It’s been really cool to hear stuff about this, and to hear that people really related to my characters who were based on me, and who I used to be. It’s comforting.

In a lot of those videos you two address those people in character when you refer to “the haters.” Did it help the two of you navigate it, was it helpful to laugh at it, or was it just part of the script? 
Truthfully, we were doing it because I was trying to incite some sort of flame war. I was trying to troll these people back! I wanted the videos to go viral, I even put them on 4Chan and I was like, “Hey, get a load of these guys, how embarrassing! Look at these nerds, trying to pretend that they’re goth!” The people who we addressed [in the videos] were real people. This was before the comments started to leave the damage that they did, I’d see them and I’d go “Tara, we gotta reply, we gotta make them even more mad, this is what we gotta say…” 

One of my favorites is the rickroll video, you really can’t get more 2008 than that. Whose idea was it to make that video?
4Chan was very upset about the Ashley Tisdale cover. 4Chan was super pissed about the Ashley Tisdale cover. I went to Tara and I said, “Look, this is a big deal on the internet right now, we gotta do it, just trust me,” and so we did. I definitely don’t understand how people saw that and still thought our videos were real. 

What’s a trend from the 2000s that you love and would want to come back? 
This is what I want: I want the original hot topic back. I want Hot Topic to be scary again, I want the old font, I want it to look like a cave when you enter, the old Hot Topic smell. I want parents to still be afraid of Hot Topic. Did you ever write on your jeans in Sharpie, or was that just me?

I wrote on my shoes in Sharpie a lot. 
I wrote on my shoes and my jeans in sharpie, but- truthfully, I want the old Hot Topic back. 

True or false: Have you ever written fan fiction?
No, I have never written fan fiction. 

Damn. 
That was something that I just...I never did. 

You know, that’s probably...that’s good. Good for you. 

You can keep this one PG-13, but: What’s the funniest or strangest thing someone has said to you within the context of work?
I’m so desensitized to my job that I forget that a lot of things are shocking to people. With the video I made at the beginning of the month, I just ended it with “Yeah, I’m a professional dominatrix” because they’d flooded my work accounts already, it was old news. I forgot that it’s a very exciting thing to a lot of people. I got so many comments after releasing that like, “What the fuck did she just say in the last second of the video?!” I thought they were excited about the old footage I was going to release, but they were really excited about my work….I forget that things that are funny to me are super shocking to other people. 

Someone I have an arrangement with, he’s this punk dude, and I know that punks and people who are really into music are very proud of their tastes in music, they’re very proud of the fact that they have a good taste in music, and I know these things because I am one of those people. I once wrote in candle wax, “I <3 KID ROCK” on his back. It took up his whole back, and I took a bunch of pictures, and he died, it was so fucking funny. He was like, “How could you?!” 

See, that’s funny! That sort of leads into my next question: Do you think there’s any connection between who you were as a young person making those videos and the work you do now, in terms of creativity and being able to laugh at yourself? 
Yes and no. There are similarities, that mostly stem from having a psychological understanding of people, and being able to improvise. The New Years’ Eve video was probably the one that was the least improvised. For the most part, things were improvised, and we knew we could do really ridiculous shit and not break character. 

Because of the trolling, there was the psychology of knowing how to get under people’s skin. With being a dominatrix, for example: everything is so individualized, you have to be good at honing in on those things really quickly, you have to get inside their head. Like with trolling people, you have to pick up really quickly on where they’re coming from, and even if you think you know, you might not actually know. You just have to have that awareness of other people and where other people’s thoughts come from. There’s definitely some crossover between the two personas. I definitely love laughing at people and cracking dumb jokes. Using comedy to mindfuck people is great. 

You mentioned on Instagram that you want to do more comedy writing. What are some of your ideas? Do you want to make more videos, or try something different? Do you even know? 
I really don’t know at this point, because again, this whole reception has been so unexpected. I came out two weeks ago, and I really wasn’t expecting any of this at all! I was going into it with the expectation of things going poorly, I would retreat into my online hermit cave and wait for it to blow over. For so long, I’ve subconsciously not given myself permission to explore these interests. The YouTube comments definitely had a lot to do with it, but as I got older, the stigma that came with being a sex worker got in the way. 

I signed up for improv classes in 2016 and dropped out because all of these questions came up. what happens if someone recognizes me....it raised all of these weird questions that I didn’t have an answer for. People still lose their jobs for this stuff, you know? “It doesn’t matter how funny I am because I’m not presentable.” I never gave myself permission, but now I’m realizing that maybe I can make this work. 

All of that has been very liberating, and I’m very privileged that I can say that, because most of the time, that is not the case for sex workers. People would ask me what I would do instead, and now all of a sudden I’m getting permission from all of these people that I can do that now. I want to try everything! I’ve got so many things that I want to explore now. 

I feel like nowadays people are more receptive to the weird. Eric Andre gets naked every single time he performs. He gets naked, and that’s his thing, that’s what he does. 
Yeah! Yeah, and that’s really exciting. 

Do you think that, between navigating youtube and your work, is there sort of a spot for girls to be weird online? Are there any positives at all? 
Yeah, and like I said earlier, there will always be people who are going to be dicks. I’m very protective of young people, it does bother me that young women, young people period can still be subjected to so much cruelty. I think that things are changing- even if there is still that cruelty, women and nonbinary, queer folks, people who aren’t straight, white cis males, will be subjected to much more scrutiny online, but I think that things have changed a lot since 2007, and that there is more of a place for people to be weird. 


At 27 years old, Robin Green is still emo, wants to know if her Meez are doing okay, and may or may not have pictures of Gerard Way saved on her phone. You can find her in Bellingham, Washington, and on Twitter at robinelizabth

Delta Sleep – Spring Island | Album Review

Growing up in Sacramento, California, I had a lot of friends in high school who were really into math rock. For some reason, there’s always been a vibrant scene there, and to this day, I still don’t really know why. My buddies were all into bands like Dance Gavin Dance, Tera Melos, and Hella. I was still deep into my Riffs Only Phase (think Metallica, Mastodon, Queens of the Stone Age), so, to me, this all sounded like repetitive noise. I just didn’t get the appeal. I felt like my dudes were too concerned with time signatures and looping pedals when they should be emphasizing the emotional side of virtuosity.

It wasn’t until I was in college that I found some math rock that felt made for me. I stumbled onto Battles while listening to my campus radio station (shout-out KSMC). The DJ played “Atlas,” and I was floored. My perspective shifted as I realized that math rock bands are still rock bands, but bands that like to do their rocking in a, well… mathy way. Real deep eighteen-year-old thoughts, I know, but are you gonna look at me and tell me that I'm wrong? Battles allowed me to dive back into the genre with a new appreciation and understanding of what I did and didn't like. I found that bands who tend to craft noodly riffs based on repetition weren’t really my thing, and what I was really looking for were bands making big choruses.

For me, Delta Sleep are the latter of these two points of view. You’re just as likely to see the Brighton cosiners on the bill for ArcTanGent as you are The Fest. The band’s approach to math rock is imbued with splashes of big tent indie, emo, and even some post-rock. Their new album Spring Island places a heavy emphasis on the bombastic indie rock portion of Delta Sleep’s DNA. These are songs meant to be shouted at the top of your lungs in the midst of a bunch of other sweaty people. 

Lead single, “The Detail,” utilizes tried and true start-stops to build up to a massive post-rock catharsis. “Planet Fantastic” is a charming and gentle ballad of sorts that ends with the band cutting out while a chorus of friends sings the refrain one last time, presumably circled around the mic, arms interlocked over each other’s shoulders. “The Softest Touch” features a midsection that belies the song’s title. My personal favorite, “Old Soul,” is a rowdy banger that features a bending guitar line reminiscent of Coldplay’s “Yellow.” 

Lyrically, much of Spring Island is concerned with anxiety and dread sparked by climate change. On “Spun,” frontperson Devin Yüceil sings about his fears for the natural world and how the seeming inability to do anything about them is driving him mad. Meanwhile, “Forest Fire” shrouds a love song with the terror of fire season, and “The Softest Touch” laments that global warming will melt the polar ice caps while we’re all convincing ourselves that we are making a difference. The group demonstrates Yüceil’s justified paranoia with a precise frenzy that a band can only be achieved through years of collaboration.

Spring Island is an impressive achievement. It’s intelligent, but it’s not soulless. It’s technical, but it also rips. I’m thankful that my friends never stopped preaching the gospel of math rock because I would not have found Delta Sleep without them.


Connor lives in San Francisco with his partner and their cat and dog, Toni and Hachi. Connor is a student at San Francisco State University and is working toward becoming a community college professor. When he isn’t listening to music or writing about killer riffs, Connor is obsessing over coffee and sandwiches.

Follow him on Twitter or Instagram.

Snarls – What About Flowers? | EP Review

When I was in high school, my favourite album was Say Anything’s ...Is A Real Boy.

This is relevant, I promise.

After years of being obsessed with the pop-punk albums of Sum41, Treble Charger, and Avril Lavigne (did I mention how Canadian I am?) ...Is A Real Boy introduced me to the more sonically inventive and emotionally challenging world of 2000s emo. My favourite lyric was, “I’ve got these last twelve bucks to spend on you. You can take me anywhere your sick mind wants to.” I spent hours figuring out how to download, edit and assign that passage as the ringtone on my red Motorola KRZR.

Snarls’ new EP What About Flowers? is filled with these Ringtonable Moments™. It’s not hard to imagine my high school self swooning over lyrics like “I used to think that you were an angel. Only when you said the words that meant everything” and “Know the world doesn’t care if you feel alone. Into the flames we fucking go.” The band has found a way to tap into the beautiful earnestness of these emotions. It’s not the naivety of high school I relive when I listen to What About Flowers?, but rather the all-encompassing totality of feeling FEELINGS. 

It’s a beautiful sentiment and a delicate tightrope to walk. Luckily for us, the listeners, Snarls is the tightest they've ever been on this EP. Snarls’ debut album, Burst, was also super tight, but there’s something more happening here; it’s clear the band has spent the intervening year and a half honing their craft. Vocalist Chlo White describes it best when she says, “We’re in the ‘pressed flowers’ phase of our band, Burst was taking a fistful of glitter and throwing it, but this EP was more intentional.”

And this intentionality shows! Everything from the guitar solos to the drum fills to how the bass locks in with the vocals on lead single “Fixed Gear” feels deliberate and tells its own story. I could go on about White’s vocal performance both on this EP and Burst for days, but I think it’s easier that I share this notes app screenshot from my second listen through:

 
 

Even with this more intentional approach to songwriting on this EP, What About Flowers? isn’t without those signature bursts of glitter. While the first two tracks end with stuttering feedback and the sound of guitar delay settling, something interesting starts happening halfway through. Delay trails, echoed vocals, and synth textures are sprinkled into the back and foreground in a way that creates their own spacey crescendos and percussion. It all builds toward the lullaby-like finale on “If Only” and a gorgeous piano line that feels incredibly hopeful after the song’s exploration of heartbreak and isolation.

This is a lovingly crafted EP that perfectly showcases the talent and depth of a fantastic young band. I spent a long time trying to think of a perfect metaphor to accompany it. A thread of yarn unspooling, opening a present, a single heart-shaped kite in the sky. Something simple like that. But I think it’s this: What About Flowers? is the feeling of falling asleep on the bus on your way back to college after going home for thanksgiving for the first time since moving away. Is this *very* specific to my experience? Sure. But just about everything about this album, down to the collaboration with producer Chris Walla, feels like it was specifically tailored to make me feel nostalgic so just let me have this.

It’s been a difficult year. I mean, globally? Sure, yeah, I think that goes without saying. Without including too many details (and at the risk of turning this small portion of Swim Into The Sound into my diary, thank you, Taylor), it’s been an adjustment period. Dramatic shifts in work, relationships, and my living situation have brought me back to those days of the overwhelming emotions captured here by Snarls. That perennial Fall Feeling of knowing that spring and summer will bring beautiful new growth, but only after you’ve had to shed everything and plant yourself for the Winter. The interim of death and rebirth.

What about flowers indeed.


Cailen Alcorn Pygott is a writer, musician, and general sadsack from Halifax, Nova Scotia. His band No, It’s Fine. also releases their album I Promise. today. Tell him how cool you think that is on Twitter @noitsfinereally and on Instagram @_no_its_fine_.

This Is the Scene on 11th Street When Black Midi Comes to Town | Concert Review

During the Year Of No Shows, I often daydreamed of a post-quarantine concert exuberant and outrageous enough to make up for all the nights that venues, once brimming with noisy liveliness, sat empty while musicians and would-be concertgoers alike waited patiently until they could breathe life into these spaces again. Now I’m not saying that a show must be rowdy and ear-splitting in order to be worthy of welcoming live music back from its pandemic-induced hiatus. In the months since tours having started up again, I’ve been blessed with the communal, campfire-like warmth of a Mountain Goats solo show at City Winery, the intimate giddiness of a post-Hurricane set Samia played at Union Pool, and a laid-back summer evening with Bright Eyes, Waxahatchee, and Lucy Dacus at Forest Hills Stadium. Each of these performances was moving and memorable, and each in its own way reminded me of something I’d desperately yearned for during quarantine. But it wasn’t until Tuesday night at Webster Hall that I was able to experience a concert that lived up to the magical, hell-raising insanity of my quarantine daydreams. And it wasn’t just the mosh pit-- though I’d heard from others that the pits at black midi shows go fucking crazy, and this one certainly did not disappoint. Beyond the simultaneously base and divine euphoria of getting tossed around in a sea of sweaty strangers, black midi’s show provided a fully immersive spectacle that felt as weirdly glamorous as it did grotesque. Like a night at the opera if said opera took place in the sewers where the Ninja Turtles live, or like Cirque du Soleil if Cirque du Soleil didn’t suck. From the moment they stepped onstage-- heralded by a faux pro-wrestling announcement that declared them “the heavyweight champions of London, England”  --it was like I’d entered another world. 

The whole scene was unassuming at first. The crowd had me feeling simultaneously too old and too young to be there-- mostly teenagers in Tripp pants and longhaired mid-30s white guys, at least three of whom were wearing Swans shirts. When I overheard a kid behind me in the merch line ask one of his companions, “so are you like, a black midi guy?” I had to stifle the urge to laugh and interrupt their conversation with, “it’s a black midi show; we’re ALL black midi guys.” I heard another group wishfully but doubtfully thinking aloud about whether the band would play bmbmbm, a song that some fans have christened black midi’s “Creep” (referring to both its status as the band’s signature song as well as the band’s seeming distaste for playing it live). Hours prior, bassist Cameron Picton had tweeted that they’d play it if they made $1,200 in merch tips that night. Clearly, this goal was not met (and Cam’s tweet was almost certainly made in jest-- the black midi boys are nothing if not constantly in on the joke), and their breakout track predictably did not make it onto the Webster Hall setlist. 

The band opened for themselves as alter-ego/blues fusion side project The Orange Tree Boys, an “amazing new band out of Las Vegas.” The Orange Tree Boys have previously made appearances at other live shows and on the black midi variety hour. Outfitted in camo, dark sunglasses, and delightfully faked American accents, they performed a short set of improvisational jams and AC/DC covers. Bowie had Ziggy Stardust, Beyonce had Sasha Fierce-- black midi have The Orange Tree Boys. They were followed by a haunting ambient set from Brooklyn-born multi-instrumentalist L’Rain, whose supporting spot on black midi’s US tour follows her residency at Mass MoCa. Her critically acclaimed 2021 sophomore album Fatigue lent itself beautifully to her live performance, her acrobatic vocals and delicately distorted experimental arrangements echoing through every inch of the ballroom. 

Between L’Rain’s set and black midi’s, I listened to a group of guys in front of me figure out their strategy re: opening up the pit-- who would go where, what was the best way to move up towards the front (this was before a few of them chorused “daddy? sorry. daddy? sorry. daddy? sorry” at black midi’s infinitely memeable frontman Geordie Greep). Of course, all strategy and logic dissipated the moment the lights dimmed and a disembodied voice introduced London’s heavyweight champions. The boys walked onstage to Frank Sinatra’s “New York, New York,” which cut out as they began to play erratic Schlagenheim album opener “953.” The song’s starting chords set off an almost Pavlovian reaction in the audience, sweeping us up into a human tornado. As we thrashed about, Geordie alternated between what can only be described as a disemboweled Sinatra cover over 953’s jagged post-punk anti-melody, and the song’s actual lyrics. 

One of the most striking contradictions of black midi’s music is how it’s theatrical yet unemotional. The musical experience they provide is somewhat concerned with feeling, but not so much feelings. Their songs rarely reveal any easily definable emotion. This only furthers their worldbuilding abilities, especially in their live performances. To call what I witnessed at Webster Hall a “concert” almost feels reductive, unable to encompass the depth of the rabbit hole they drag their audiences down. We zoomed through the dystopian urban development of the 2019 single “Speedway” with Cameron and his sinister, monotone vocals in the driver’s seat. On this tour’s live standout, rumored to appear on LP3, “Welcome To Hell,” Geordie became the demonic carnival barker of our nightmares, calling for us to “listen, listen!” and setting the crowd aflame while chanting the names of plagues-- “Cholera! Malaria!” And how can I begin to adequately describe the mass psychosis that was this specific live rendition of “John L,” a song I’ve heard half a dozen live recordings of, all of which sound wildly different from one another. As Geordie reached the verse where he speaks from the perspective of the song’s titular disgraced cult leader, the audience seemed to become the cult itself-- “crowds of every age, creed, and gender...overwhelmed by their king.” Geordie Greep-as-John L’s “gargling non-song” incited what looked/sounded/felt like a collective exorcism, making all of us players black midi’s show.

This was also one of the few moments in which I was lucky enough to get a decent view of Morgan Simpson, quite possibly one of the greatest drummers working today. To hear his intricately crafted chaos on black midi’s records is one thing, but to see him in action is transcendent, his free jazz drumming tying together black midi’s genre-defying sound. Since the band first broke into the spotlight, it’s been clear that it’s Morgan’s intricate yet bombastic rhythms that anchor black midi’s wild sonic landscapes to some semblance of coherence. black midi’s music is like a rickety wooden rollercoaster-- there’s a thrill in feeling like it’s about to fall apart beneath you --Morgan’s drums are like the screws that hold the rollercoaster together, but not tight enough to keep you from wondering “is this safe?” (also, much like my first time riding the Cyclone, I was having so much fun getting knocked around that it wasn’t until later on that I realized that something-- or someone --had hit me in the mouth making me bleed a little). The boys are as in sync with one another as ever, and the addition of touring members Kaidi Akinnibi on saxophone and Seth Evans on keys have helped to fatten the band’s already larger-than-life sound to fill the increasingly spacious venues they’ve been booking since the release of 2021 sophomore album Cavalcade.

Memorable moments from the night went beyond just musical ones. Seth and Geordie sparred with one another between songs, the audience egging them on. Kaidi, in his ruffled shirt and sequined mask, mimicked the disciplinarian sternness of a disappointed teacher as he broke up their “fight” (the end of the show saw Geordie chasing Seth offstage with a toy sword). At one point, Cam hopped down from the stage with a pizza box in hand and passed out slices to the rabid crowd.

black midi’s chameleonic nature transcends the versatility of their music. Known to make appearances dressed up as chefs, doctors, astronauts, businessmen, and as the aforementioned Orange Tree Boys, they’re always filling out the world of their performances. They’ve struck a perfect balance between how seriously they take their craft and how seriously they don’t take themselves. Their live shows have become masterclasses in the art of Committing To The Bit. Yet their campy, over-the-top presentation never feels like a gimmicky attempt to pander to their audience or solidify their status as a Definitive Gen-Z Band. Moreover, it makes the moments of true beauty and emotional resonance all the more striking. Live favorite “27 Q” had Geordie going full crooner; his vocal delivery was lovely, but it was a loveliness that still fit into the wacky Looney Tunes bullshit of the black midi musical universe. Then came cacophonous closer, “Slow,” in which Cameron’s melodic vocals guided the song to its violent, apocalyptic climax (the image of Cameron standing atop an amp stoically shrieking the word “slowly” over and over again will forever be burned into my memory). 

After the band put down their instruments and gathered at the edge of the stage to say goodnight, Geordie called out to us with a wink that he’d see us tomorrow night, “And the next night! And the night after that! And the night after that! In Hell, where you’ll burn for coming to this show, you fuckin’ sinners! Go home!” If Hell is anything like a black midi show, I don’t wanna go to Heaven.


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

Church Girls – Still Blooms | Album Review

a2438517841_10.jpg

The “get out of this town” narrative is well-trodden territory in pop-punk, pretty much a staple of the genre. On their third album, Still Blooms, Philly punk rockers Church Girls conjure up imagery of this kind of suffocating environment, letting it fuel their desire to break away from the things that keep them feeling trapped. And they aren’t just leaving their metaphorical dead-end town; they’re barreling away from it at top speed in a getaway car and refusing to look back. 

As a lifelong New Yorker, I used to romanticize the idea of growing up in some small town that I could rebel against. It was a fantasy within a fantasy-- I liked the idea of having somewhere to escape from. Much of that fantasy involved a rite-of-passage that, though standard for most US teens, was foreign to me: driving around my crappy hometown with the stereo at full volume, finally getting my first taste of freedom. Now, in my twenties, I remain un-licensed, able to count on one hand the number of times I’ve been behind the wheel, and wishing I could get up the invincible “fuck-it” energy I had when I was younger to counteract the fear that’s been holding me back from learning to drive. All that being said: move over Olivia Rodrigo, someone else’s songs made me want to get my driver’s license. Church Girls are making heart-pounding, windows-down pop-punk anthems that burn with the promise of liberation, even in their most desperate moments. 

Desperation and determination go hand in hand on this album. These songs are driven by a grim optimism, with lead vocalist Mariel Beaumont plunging into the depths of despair and surfacing with an even stronger resolve. Just look at lead single “Separated,” where Beaumont intones, “one day we won’t think about it much / the sky will lift up and we’ll be unstuck from these sickly cycles in an old patterned loop.” It’s these brash statements of hope, even when such notions seem illogical, that imbue the songs on Still Blooms with a revelatory spirit and earn them a place in a greater, genre-spanning musical lineage. Think The Mountain Goats’ 2005 autobiographical bildungsroman The Sunset Tree, with John Darnielle declaring that he will “make it through this year if it kills me” and forcing himself to believe in a day where he can “rise up free and easy.” Think Fiona Apple taking control of her narrative and demanding her freedom over the beautifully tangled cacophonies of last year’s instant classic, Fetch The Bolt Cutters. Church Girls’ liberatory vision is messy and challenged by self-doubt, but the shadows surrounding it make it all the more compelling. 

These songs are hurtling into an unknown, but the reckless energy of their sound is in no way a reflection of a lack of thoughtful attention that Church Girls pay to their craft. They demonstrate a calculated chaos that Church Girls first began to cultivate on their 2017 debut Hidalgo, but have perfected as their sound has evolved. The four band members are now acutely attuned to one another, down to the smallest detail. On “Dune,” an electrifying guitar solo heralds in Beaumont's ethereal vocals at the bridge. From there, angelic harmonies build over a rolling snare. These vocals have an almost choir-like quality, which bring their vivid, emotionally resonant lyrics to shimmering heights. 

Vacation,” the album’s final single, is another great example of the group’s undeniable chemistry. Instrumentally, it calls back to the energetic guitar riffs and pummeling drums of Bomb The Music Industry’s album of, coincidentally, the same title. The same can be said for the song thematically, as its unflinching confrontation with anxiety and regret will undoubtedly appeal to fans of Jeff Rosenstock’s vulnerable lyricism. “Vacation” shows Church Girls unafraid to engage with ugly feelings. It’s a strikingly honest commentary on the self-sabotaging impulse to isolate in sorrow rather than letting yourself need others. The album’s most profound moments are also some of its darkest. Beaumont has said that the aforementioned “Separated” is about a family member’s alcoholism. She attempts to make sense of her shifting ideas of home and family through lyrics like, “the known place has flamed out / and we’re learning not to yearn for it at all.” It’s an honest statement on love and addiction, and how the two complicate one another in ways that we might never quite make sense of. 

Undone” opens with Beaumont dejectedly remarking, “so this is how it ends, huh?” Her voice softens at the bridge, the words “leave you at the water’s edge” floating delicately over contrasting parentheticals-- “Sink! Or! Swim!” is chanted almost militaristically by her bandmates. The drowning motif returns a few songs later on “Dissolve,” as does the contrast of shouted staccato backing vocals with Beaumont taking the melodic lead. We see drowning symbolism yet again on “Basement,” whose lyrics give us some fire as well as water. The flames that engulfed the broken home in “Separated” are now blazing through city streets. It’s another deeply personal track, one that sees Beaumont confessing, “I’m barely keeping it alive,” as she watches the moon from a dark, dusty basement. These tracks-- as well as supercharged album opener “Surface” --remind me of some of my favorite cuts from PUP’s discography, with their infectious pop-punk riffs, raucous gang vocals, and cutting delivery that’s somehow both miserable and triumphant. 

The album’s final few songs skew a bit more reflective, shifting the focus from the destination to what is left behind. Penultimate track, “Gone,” details a dismal homecoming scene, which questions whether or not this place can even be called home anymore:

All I got’s this ceiling fan
And the mattress on the floor
Now I’m stuck on dry land
Wondering what I came here for

It’s a familiar feeling of returning to a place associated with potent memories hoping for closure but ultimately coming up empty-handed. Closing track “Visions” looks to the future, begging the question of what happens once you’ve arrived in “a distant town like you wanted.” Church Girls provide a soundtrack to a ride off into the sunset, all while keeping that inescapable past in their periphery. Much of the album feels like a series of escape attempts, and ultimately all roads lead back to the very thing we were running away from.


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