Madi Diaz – Weird Faith | Album Review

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ANTI-

One of my favorite things to do when I was young was snoop through my older siblings' rooms when they weren't home. I got to see what was important to them by sifting through their junk drawer, seeing a different side of the people I had spent my whole life around. To this day, I have a vivid memory of reading my sister’s diary, quickly skipping through pages and reading short sections at random. I'm embarrassed to admit that even writing about this memory is making my heart beat through my chest as if I am about to get caught by my parents. That sense of sneaking around, reading things you shouldn’t, and glimpsing into the inner workings of someone’s brain is also how I feel when I listen to Weird Faith, the fifth album from Madi Diaz. 

I only recently found Madi Diaz’s music during the rollout of Weird Faith, and it only took a few seconds of listening to the album’s lead single, “Same Risk,” to know that she was making music that I would enjoy sitting down and engaging with on a deeper level. In addition to serving as the album’s lead single, “Same Risk” is also the opening song of Weird Faith, and it fills that role wonderfully as the introduction to Diaz’s style. The very first verse of the song had my eyes wide and feeling like a bit of a prude for being so taken aback.

I'll let you try on all my dirty thoughts
If you lay in my bed, I know we're gonna have sex
It'll happen so fast, make a suicide pact
And you can't take that back

On its own, the first thirty seconds of the song felt like an attempt at “shock value.” Phrases like “suicide pact” feel almost gratuitous, but after the pre-chorus opens up and we leave that first verse behind, it becomes clear that Diaz’s songs have more than enough substance and meaning to warrant my discomfort. 

Madi Diaz writes clever and concise songs about love and life in ways that are brand new to me. I found myself grinning every time I would connect the dots in my head to understand the concept of each song. Typically, I'm not much of a lyrics guy, so I'm not one to think about all the possible interpretations of a song in the first place, but Diaz’s songwriting stands so tall in the forefront of these tracks that it's impossible to ignore.

“Get To Know Me” is a prime example of Diaz breathing new life into a common trope. It’s a song of pointed self-depreciation that reminds me of various Willy Nelson cuts like “Touch Me,” “Am I Blue?,” and “Half A Man.” This is a style of song I love because it allows the artist to balance out this crushing self-analysis with impressive self-awareness. 

Have you met when I'm belligerent?
I might make you cry
Have I introduced insecurity yet?
Wish I could tell you why

That back and forth brought yet another smile to my face, giving and taking all at once. 

I set out to write this review during a flight from Knoxville to Denver and back. My first listen of the album began the minute I sat down in my little blue aisle seat. I got out my phone and proceeded to tap away for three hours there and another three on the way back. As dumb as I looked hunched over in seat 19B, smiling to myself, there were a handful of spots in this album that took me out of my state long enough to straighten my back and face. Some of these moments were musical, like the muted guitar strumming in “Everything Almost,” which was tough to listen to. There’s also “God Person” and “For Months Now,” where echoing vocals rang against sparse production, feeling a little too over the top on such intimate songs.

While the first ten songs of Weird Faith remind me of flipping through my sister's diary, the last two tracks come together for a freeing resolution that sends the listener off with a bit of hopefullness. This whole album addresses what it’s like to exist in a relationship as imperfect people, to come together with someone else who’s just as messed up in their own ways, and to acknowledge that. If the first ten songs are the challenges, then the title track works as a mantra that counters and consoles each challenge found in the preceding songs. “Weird Faith” is ultimately a reminder against becoming calloused in heartbreak and holding onto an optimism, or faith, of the good to be found. 

‘Cause every love brings a lesson
And I'm gonna be tested
So I'm gonna have a heart of gold
And I'm gonna have weird faith

After arriving at the album’s thesis statement in the penultimate track, Diaz adds a needed dose of substance and reality with the placement of “Obsessive Thoughts” as the closer. After a record of intimate thoughts and honest over-shares, Diaz builds waves of big energy at the beginning of this song, unlike anything that preceded it. I found the highest peak of the album here in the last song, which surges to a wailing height and then drops off into silence, ending even quicker than it started. We get to hear Diaz’s voice waver a little in the softer flourishes between cymbal crashes. I’m imagining that we are hearing the toll from multiple takes of this grand finale, and I really love the inclusion of that waiver. 

Madi Diaz gives us insight into her heart through masterfully crafted songs. She tells us stories about herself in ways I have not heard done before. I love it when I am able to notice even a sliver of the amount of work that went into making a piece of art, which made listening to Weird Faith a lot of fun. 

Our anxieties don't disappear once we figure out what helps to tamp them down. “Obsessive Thoughts” on its own is a tough place to be, but thankfully, we have our weird faith to help us along our way. 

Kirby Kluth grew up in the suburbs of Houston but now lives in Knoxville, TN. He spends his time thinking about motorcycles, tennis, and music. You can follow him on Instagram @kirbykluth.

Friko – Where we've been, Where we go from here | Album Review

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ATO Records

“Heaven is out there / Middle of nowhere /
Hiding away until it’s time.”

I love art that forces me to think critically about it.

In high school and later college, I prided myself on reading difficult classics in order to understand why art was considered “art.” While I don’t regret reading James Joyce’s Ulysses for an independent study, I tend to see greater use for it as a paperweight nowadays.

Sometime after graduating, I really got into watching films. For the past few years, I’ve aimed to watch at least 75 movies by year’s end. I’ll watch and find something to enjoy in everything from Eraserhead (1977) to Women Talking (2022). Hell, I even unironically loved Beau is Afraid (2023).

When I owned a turntable, I would read along with the lyrics of whatever records I played. It’s not that the albums were poorly mixed or that the lyrics were indecipherable, even though a fair amount of them were mumbly shoegaze. In fact, in those genres where the words were more obscured, I liked that the meanings and themes were buried behind intriguing, elusive imagery.

This preamble is not to say I’m pretentious (e.g., I contend the Venom movies are a darn good time). I just love to wrestle with authorial intent and artistic interpretations. I simply love the messiness inherent in art.

Friko’s Where we’ve been, Where we go from here falls squarely in this category of “challenging” art.

As I listened to Friko’s debut LP for the umpteenth time, the lyrics didactically teased me on the computer screen. The natural reverb of the room filled my ears. With the orchestral strings warming my wintry heart, an epiphany dawned: I’ll never solve the puzzle of their album, or at least not all of it. But Friko already knew that, as per “Chemical,” where the band sings, “Starting to believe / The puzzle never solves / Because it’s all / Chemical.”

To songwriters Niko Kapetan and Bailey Minzenberger’s credit, solving the puzzle of it all is not the point of their record. The processing, not the product, is the message. Vocalist/guitarist Kapetan is in search of “better for yourself and the people around you” while struggling in our turbulent world. Sometimes, that comes in the form of lamenting lost love like “For Ella,” and other times, that chase is shown through deliberate ignorance like on “Get Numb to It!”

The lens through which Kapetan struggles for better is as vast as the genres that Friko explores. Art rock, chamber pop, and literary indie rock enthusiasts will all find something to love here. Sudden dynamic shifts, the strings, or the live performances that remind you of the best-sounding DIY venues. The music video for album opener “Where We’ve Been” depicts Friko’s expansive, masterful musicality in an intimate room. Emotion quivers through Kapetan’s voice until it explodes into catharsis. Natural amp feedback is pushed into wall-of-sound territory while Minzenberger’s drums maintain the guiding heartbeat to keep listeners on the road to better. 

Friko is a group of excellent musicians building off the backbone of talented songwriters whose brand of artistry is decidedly left of mainstream. Despite the learning curve inherent in interpreting an album like Where we’ve been, Where we go from here, Friko manages to convey clear, passionate yearning as artists in search of something better, be that love or the omnipresent fight to grow and change. Like my favorite pieces of art, contending with Where we’ve been is a challenge worth undertaking, not for its end, but for the depths explored along the way.

Brooklyn native Joe Wasserman moonlights as an English teacher when he’s not playing bass in the LVP. Find more of his writing on Substack.

Prize Horse – Under Sound | Album Review

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New Morality Zine

It’s my understanding the kids love shoegaze now, which is the oldest-sounding sentence I’ve uttered all year. Like all cultural trends, the genre has cyclically come in and out of phase many times, much like the guitar tones that define its most essential albums. For some bands that pull direct influence from shoegaze, it’s a dirty word the way any overt genre callout can be. So many emo bands don’t want to be called “emo” or metalcore bands “metalcore,” but their songs are full of repurposed Jimmy Eat World or Killswitch Engage riffs, respectively. 

My comprehension of modern shoegaze is about halfway between my complete lack of understanding of contemporary emo and my unwavering fandom of current strains metalcore. I have no idea what’s popping off on TikTok, but whether you got into shoegaze yesterday or three decades ago, Prize Horse delivers everything you need on their debut LP Under Sound.

To be fair to the Minneapolis trio, I don’t intend to force them into a stylistic corner here. There’s much more on this record than just big guitars and washed-out vocals. Contrary to the latter, one of the defining features of the band’s sound is Jake Beitel’s voice, which is mixed up front, sitting evenly within the often thick instrumental production. The album’s premiere single, “Your Time,” which was released back in October, is a prime guitar rock cross-section of alternative, emo, and our old friend shoegaze. The band isn’t fully leaning into any one of those sounds, but carefully composing them all into a distinct mix, like a beefed-up version of Turnover.

Or take the opening cut, “Dark Options,” which begins with a sparse intro of clean guitars, a lowkey electronic rhythm, and yearning vocals. “Don’t wanna sit on the floor with it. Come over now, it’s gone. It left a hole in my stomach, I’ll find who did that and make them pay.” Beitel has a precise way of phrasing, letting his delivery ride along the wave of the music, sometimes over-enunciating a word to a biting effect. The one-two punch of “Dark Options” and “Your Time” in Under Sound’s starting lineup should quickly reel in fans of Fleshwater, Modern Color, or Nothing.

The title track, “Under Sound,” bears one of the heaviest emotional weights on the album, a bold choice to put as the fourth song. “Been working my whole life for now, stepping along. Too much weight on the past life.” There’s a palpable pain seeping through the entire band’s giant performance. Beitel closes, “I want it out of my head, buried under sound.” It serves confidently as the record’s centerpiece, displaying Prize Horse’s sound in its most encapsulating form.

“Reload” and “Stone” are two of the more direct bangers on the record, going for that “definitely alt but still make peoples’ heads bang” vibe that I get from bands like Anxious or Citizen. Prize Horse is consistently good at putting forth riff-led rock that wouldn’t feel out of place on any subgenre highlights playlist. There’s enough to latch onto for the underground uninitiated, but they’re not alienating their scene either.

The reserved production on the outro track “Awake For It” is a pleasant finale to an album that doesn’t feel bloated or reaching for something it can’t obtain. Between the acoustic and slide guitars working together, it evokes some of the more left-of-center moments on the last Touché Amoré album, Lament. The two bands also share the commonality of casting a wide net around music subcultures, Touché Amoré being a fan favorite from everyone from hardcore kids to Pitchfork baristas. I think the only thing working against the track is that it ends just a bit quickly, where, instead, it would have been nice to send the album out on a grander coda.

A well-thought-out sequence of performance volumes, Under Sound expertly balances the in-your-face heavy alternative moments with the slow and methodical emo passages. Prize Horse is a band that wouldn’t feel out of place on any small-club “punk” bill. They could sit in the middle of Code Orange and Gel just as much as they could Turnover and Beach Fossils. Whether you think shoegaze-inspired bands are in or out this week, Prize Horse is beyond all quick labels, letting them stand out amongst their contemporaries.

Logan Archer Mounts once almost got kicked out of Warped Tour for doing the Disturbed scream during a band’s acoustic set. He currently lives in Rolling Meadows, IL, but tells everyone he lives in Palatine.

Wednesday and Hotline TNT: Indie Rock's Newest Mega Powers

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In the late 80s, the World Wrestling Federation was looking for global domination, so they dreamed big and made a team-up for the ages. Like a child playing with action figures, the WWF took their two biggest attractions, Hulk Hogan and Macho Man Randy Savage, and paired them together, forming a colossal duo known as the Mega Powers. Fast forward to today, and a new mega powers has launched, but instead of parading down the aisle lathered up in baby oil only dressed in the tightest of skivvies, these mega powers take the stage in flannels, vintage rugby shirts, and distressed clothing. On tour, two of the hottest indie rock bands, Wednesday and Hotline TNT, went scorched earth all over the greater United States for a triumphant seventeen tour dates. 

Both bands were coming off landmark 2023 releases, making this tour feel like an extended victory lap. Wednesday, best described as the sonic intersection of The Smashing Pumpkins and Drive-By Truckers, released their fifth studio album, Rat Saw God back in April. Together, the ten tracks on Rat made for a swampy countrygaze record that wound up near the top of pretty much every publication’s end-of-the-year list. Then, in November, Hotline TNT offered up shoegaze with a pop perspective on their ground-shattering sophomore record, Cartwheel, released on Third Man Records and packed to the brim with crushing riffs and catchy hooks. I knew I had to see these songs for myself, so I took the pilgrimage from Chicago down to Miami to witness the spectacle of distorted, blown-out guitars and lap steel with my own two eyes. It was a windy mid-60-degree February night where most of the country would dream of weather like this, but for a city as warm and vibrant as Miami, looking around at the locals, you thought you might have been teleported to the North Pole. 

Photo by David Williams

The stage was set for good old-fashioned rock n roll, only with a tropical twist. The background of the stage was lined with fish scales in all kinds of neon greens, oranges, and yellows, with tiki hut straw coming down from the top of the ceiling. Essentially, it's as if the concert was set in the movie Cocktail; I wouldn't have been shocked if I had seen a Tom Cruise wearing a Hawaiian shirt while slinging ice-cold Mojitos to over-served patrons at the bar. 

We’re lucky to live at a moment in time where people can witness face-melting performances in an intimate setting by bands who feel destined for superstardom. In a perfect world, Wednesday's Rat Saw God should have been nominated for Rock Album of the Year at the Grammys, and Hotline TNT's Cartwheel should have got the band nominated for Best New Artist. Karly Hartzman, frontwoman of Wednesday, known for turning the dredge of everyday living into veering country rock anthems, is a star in the making. Will Anderson, the brains and brawn behind Hotline TNT, crashes with a tidal of distorted guitars that plummet down on you in waves. 

Photo by David Williams

Anderson is a towering presence on stage, standing at 6 foot 5, sporting bleached blonde hair with a green spider web design as if he was caught in the crossfire while Peter Parker was fighting a supervillain. He brought out a small militia of guitarists with him that continuously pummeled the audience in droves of catchy riffs. At one point in the show, Anderson, a consummate showman, peers into the crowd to say, “The first person that does a cartwheel gets 15% at the merch table.” What a guy! After a few failed attempts from fans, one kid finally hit the cartwheel with grace and balance, like something you would have seen in the Summer Olympics. Sure enough, a man of his word, Anderson points to the merch booth and nods his head in approval. The kid got his discount.

One of Anderson's best qualities is creating music that needs to be played at brute-force volume. Think Macaulay Culkin from Michael Jackson's "Black Or White" video blasting his dad into orbit. The live experience only enhances each song, where you can feel the fury of distorted guitars almost lifting you off your feet. Hotline TNT opens the set with “Protocol,” which teases you for a good minute of lead in guitars before kicking into high gear with drowned-out riffs. By their third song, the pop-influenced 90s alt-rock hit “I Thought You’d Change,” you’d never want the show to end. 

Photo by David Williams

From there, Wednesday tags in with a vicious rendition of "Hot Rotten Grass Smell," Hartzman comes out in a checkered picnic pattern dress with black lipstick and Doc Martens. The outfit looks as if Laura Ingalls Wilder had a goth phase. She carries a bright and bubbly demeanor on stage. Her personality is paired with a refined coolness, generating an IT- Factor that not too many artists have today. Guitarist MJ Lenderman, who has a rapidly ascending solo career of his own with his 2022 alt-country classic Boat Songs, has also begun to reach a cult-like status. I spoke to an older gentleman with a long white Duck Dynasty-length beard who drove 2 hours from West Palm Beach just to see Lenderman play guitar. That just goes to show you the cross-generational talent potential this band possesses. 

While Hotline TNT's emotional core lies in the overpowering guitars, Wednesday's heart lies within Hartzman's songwriting. She has a knack for making the ordinary feel downright transcendent. The vivid pictures she paints with her lyrics are so clear it feels like we have known the characters within these songs for years. The fans feel a special connection with her as she turns everyday life into rock anthems. She can make the most mundane objects like candy bars on Halloween or blasting bottle rockets enthralling. So by the time the last verse in "Quarry" hits, the whole crowd sings along to Mandy and her boyfriend getting arrested when cops discover cocaine in the drywall. The set ends with the grungy 8-minute-long "Bull Believer," which sees Karly reaching down deep to belt out blood-curdling screams, seemingly letting loose of the pain she accumulated throughout her life. The audience is more than happy to reciprocate by going bat-shit crazy themselves letting loose guttural wails until the entire crowd becomes a teaming mass of noise. It was a cathartic experience.

One thing I noticed throughout the night was the pure camaraderie among the bands. When Hotline TNT was performing, Karly Hartzman was off to the side, hooting and hollering to every song. She looked like a proud soccer mom watching her kids score the winning goal. During their set, Anderson kept glancing over, motioning for her to come on stage until, at last, his persistence paid off. Worlds collide for the Hotline TNT’s closer as Hartzman struts on stage to assist in singing a masterclass in shoegaze rock, "Had 2 Try." At one point, while Anderson was hammering on the whammy bar and testing the limits of his guitar’s strength, Hartzman leaned down to untie one of his New Balance 550s. It's refreshing to see such absolute fun being had on stage while you can also feel the joy and passion of the performance. This tour feels like a triumphant moment shared by two of America's most captivating indie rock bands. The night ended up being a championship-level victory, and they didn't even need to hit someone over the head with a steel chair. 

David is a content mercenary based in Chicago. He's also a freelance writer specializing in music, movies, and culture. His hidden talents are his mid-range jump shot and the ability to always be able to tell when someone is uncomfortable at a party. You can find him scrolling away on Instagram @davidmwill89, Twitter @Cobretti24, or Medium @davidmwms.

Liquid Mike – Paul Bunyan's Slingshot | Album Review

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SELF-RELEASED

OKAY LISTEN UP AND LET ME TALK ABOUT LIQUID MIKE FOR A MINUTE: This is the cure for the melancholy and culture void of the Bush administration; the angst of the aughts still felt twenty years later. This is music to steal traffic cones to. This is music that will make you feel like you’re free. For the stultifying winter, the dullness of the daily, the anguish of being alive, I prescribe ONE DOSE OF LIQUID MIKE.

Hailing from Marquette, Michigan, Liquid Mike is the quintessential Midwestern (and therefore American) alt-rock outfit. They are sweet and salty, indie rock on 1.5x speed, alternative with a touch of glam rock like the dregs of pop-punk covered in glitter. I first listened to them because my fellow Swim Into the Sound contributor Grace Robins-Somerville cited them as one of her favorite bands she discovered in 2023, and DAMN was she on to something. I listened to this record during the Chicago winter, and if there is one defining characteristic of Chicago, it is GRAYNESS, and the winters are COLD, not even in a cute way! And it is impossible to keep your spirits up during the third straight month of living with 4:30 pm twilights and failing public transit in an intentionally-created spell of mass homelessness thanks to “Governor” Greg Abbott trafficking people across the country to a location with reliably subzero temperatures!

Amidst all this misery, I felt immune to charm. Nothing was beautiful. Everything was filled with filthy slush. I thought it was simply impossible for this dreariness to feel anything but dreary. And then I listened to Paul Bunyan’s Slingshot, and this music fixed me! Aggressively upbeat alternative indie rock from Marquette, Michigan really was the only thing to distract me from my own sadness! With their remarkable aesthetic cohesion, endearing Midwesternisms, and jangly power pop energy, Paul Bunyan’s Slingshot feels like a journey through the minds and hearts of Middle America, in the best way possible.

The first notes of the album shoot like an adrenaline injection. “Drinking and Driving” carries that rare upbeat euphoria that only the most exquisite specimens of hardcore rock have elicited in me (see: “Gravity” by Turnstile and “Do It Faster” by Militarie Gun). Muddy treble and crunchy percussion combine to create this marvelous, powerful sound that is truly irresistible. It feels like the sonic equivalent of a vodka Red Bull. “Pacer” is another standout track that continues in this trajectory; the song deals with coming to terms with painful relationships and delivers a taste of the painful emotional cocktails that provide a sting with a little bit of sweetness mixed in, ending on a crisp, satisfying lick.

Let me tell you–this record has everything. Hooks that will save your life. The anthemic groove of “K2;” the music shimmers with a summery brilliance, and the lyrics recall adolescent antics and feelings of belonging. You don’t have to smoke synthetic weed, you can just listen to a song about it and get more or less the same effect! There is “/ / /,” a sweet and fresh song that is only 32 seconds. I love it when songs are 32 seconds and also mysteriously titled! Then, on “Mouse Trap,” the band offers commentary on the cornerstone myth of American class mobility. Vocalist and songwriter Mike Maple sings, “Given what you know, the American dream is a Michigan home / You can see it from your window.” So true, Liquid Michael! If the national mythos can be as tangible as to be seen from your window, how can it remain so elusive? How can the happiness and collective prosperity promised to ordinary Americans over and over by our political and financial overlords ever be realized? How can life be so good yet so bad? If all we need is a dog and a house, why are we all so miserable? The album reckons with all this and more before ending on the title track, “Paul Bunyan’s Slingshot,” a thumpy and energetic return to the power rock ethos of their breakthrough 2023 album.

The music feels heavy and warm, like the vests they put on you when you’re getting X-rayed at the dentist’s office. It is comforting yet cathartic, and all these adjectives fail to capture the true guts and glory at the center of this music. Wherever you are, Midwest or not, winter or summer, this record makes you feel closer to home.

Elizabeth is a neuroscience researcher in Chicago. She writes about many things—art, the internet, apocalyptic thought, genetically modified mice—and makes electronic music in her spare time. She is from Northern Nevada.