Lip Critic – Hex Dealer | Album Review

Partisan Records

> It is a Friday afternoon in May of 2024. Summer has yet to begin officially, yet the sun is punishingly bright as it tries to burst through the shuttered blinds of my home. I have attempted to counteract the blistering heat that awaits outside by running the a/c unit of my apartment into overdrive, yet it does not seem to be working: my insides are cooking. I am approximately eight minutes and twelve seconds into the thirty-one-minute runtime of Lip Critic’s debut LP Hex Dealer, and something is happening. 
> My heartbeat has gradually increased as each minute ticks by. I first noticed this reaction precisely four minutes and twenty-three seconds into this listening session, around the closing point of the opening track “It’s The Magic,” when I began to experience shortness of breath and a slight blurring in my vision. There is something living in this album. 

There is something simultaneously familiar and refreshingly new to a record like this, always the surest sign a band has at least the potential to become interesting if they are not right out of the gate. Lip Critic need not worry about the potential of being interesting; they sprinted right past potential quite a while ago with a series of EPs and singles dating back to 2019. Hex Dealer is, in many ways, the ideal form of a debut LP: it is a record that’s overflowing with ideas both musically and lyrically, the unmistakable sign of a band that’s spent years experimenting as they build up the anticipation for what a fully realized album by them could sound like. Now, Hex Dealer is here, ready to punish all who dare delve into Lip Critic’s world. 

> By the third song, my nose has started to bleed. It’s a slight drip, like an old faucet that won’t stop. I can feel my brain pulsating against my skull. It is trying to escape. There is no escape.

All that time I waited
Just to find out I’m from hell
I burn right through
My mortal shell

> It appears I blacked out shortly after my last audio log. The nose bleeding has intensified. Some minor cuts and scrapes have developed on my scalp. I can’t feel them, but I know they are there. I am going to attempt to continue from where I passed out before. 

What to say about a track like “Bork Pelly”? This is the first of two tracks on the record to feature guest verses from other vocalists (in this case, those guests would be GHÖSH and ID.Sus) and also the sort of track that is going to grab the inevitable, and frankly lazy, comparison to Death Grips. Why is it any time a punk band that draws just as much from hip-hop and dance music must always be compared to those titans of trolling? They certainly weren’t the first group to marry that cadre of sounds together. Is it just that they were the first to quote-unquote “breakthrough” to the mainstream? The first band of this ilk to get Pitchfork coverage and major festival slots? Probably. Almost certainly. But there is such a slice-of-life playfulness, not just to a track like “Bork Pelly,” but to all of the output from Lip Critic up until this point, that their sonic forebearers have seriously lacked. Sure, this album is populated with grimy, intense, breakneck-paced songs, but it is also a truly funny and engaging album. 

> There is a warbling synth embedded in the track “Spirit Bomber” that has shifted my pre-existing nausea into full-on illness. The way the notes gurgle has sent my brain into convulsions, though my body is completely still, paralyzed in fact. I am lying here on the floor of my bathroom, incapable of vomiting, but at this moment, for the first time in my life, there is nothing I would love to be able to do nothing more right now than just that. I can feel my organs shifting inside me.
> 47 seconds into “Death Lurking, one of the cuts on the back of my scalp has developed into a larger wound, though it does not hurt in the slightest. In fact, it feels nice to touch. 

> The high-pitched, scraping synth on “I’m Alive” feels akin to white noise, but if it physically hurt to listen to. I have pulled a small (about 3” in length and thin in diameter) bit of what appears to be wire out of the large unfeeling wound on the back of my head. It is covered in a viscous black goo that smells and tastes of nothing.

> The death metal-adjacent growl of “My Wife and the Goblin” feels like a moment of relief from the abuse my brain and body have endured until this point. The bleeding from my nose has stopped. I have continued to pull more frayed bits of wire of varying lengths from my headwound. 

> I have lost a tooth. My body feels like static. The pulse of album closer “Toxin Dodger” has given me the sweet release of vomit purging from my body. It is similar to the black goo that coated the bit of wire I pulled from my head wound. I can now feel bits of wire protruding through the skin on my palms and fingers. There is little of me left how I was before. My body and mind are not what they were. I pick at the wound on my head. It has gotten significantly larger. I can fit almost my whole hand in there. My entire body tingles with static as I pry and feel around gently. 

> There it is. The wire from where all of these bits I have pulled seemed to have originated from. It’s hefty feeling and causes my legs to spasm and pulsate when I grasp on it. I pull on the large wire that appears to be stuck to my brainstem. I tug at it ever so slightly as more and more unspools from the wound in my head. It feels good…
> It feels good. 

Jack Nelson is a writer, bartender, and former stand-up comedian (don’t hold that last part against him) based in Wilmington, NC. He can be found on Instagram and Letterboxd as @itsjackiekeyes. You will soon be able to see him in the upcoming mockumentary Soda Pop Spencer Storms Atlanta. All updates on that and future film projects can be found on the IG for the production company @punisher_skull.jpg.

Sailor Down – vacation (forgive me evan) | Single Review

Relief Map Records

Summer has never been my favorite season, which is ironic considering that I live in a state known for its endless beaches and near-eternal summer. I much prefer the cool embrace of our four days of fall, but instead, I’m stuck dealing with California’s five hundred days of summer heat. There are a few redeeming aspects of this season, though – one huge benefit is the opportunity to take day trips to the Bay Area and cooler northern coast. To me, one of the fun parts of these little road trips is curating the perfect playlist to set the mood for the drive. Luckily, up-and-comers Sailor Down have just the song to add: “vacation (forgive me evan).” 

Hailing from the East Coast, where summer is shorter and slightly more forgiving, Sailor Down is a four-piece ensemble headed by frontperson Chloe Deeley. Their music is described by Relief Map Records as “Kinsella-inspired,” mellow, folksy, and emo. “vacation (forgive me evan)” is the first single off Sailor Down’s upcoming EP Maybe We Should Call It A Night, and it’s the perfect song for hazy, cricket-scored summer evenings. With an album and an EP under their belt, Sailor Down has already begun to establish their sound. Tracks like “Bat Signal” and “Skip the Line” are warm and beautiful, decorated with charming synth melodies and guitar riffs.

On “vacation (forgive me evan),” Deeley’s soft and gentle voice, supported by cozy guitars and pleasantly buzzy drums, creates an atmosphere of wistful emotion. “Moon in the mirror orange as a citrus / Rain on the windshield following sound / We spent vacation overanalyzing / No one’s letting anyone down.” Poignant visuals like these are threaded beautifully through the song, creating a watercolor world for the listener to explore. Deeley continues to paint a picture as variations of these lyrics return throughout the track, telling a story of two people navigating the new emotions of a shifting relationship. 

Tell me how you picture time
If it’s linear, then I won’t mind
I’ve got something to say, and I’ll keep it
Until I’m back to the future tonight

Something is changing, rolling like a storm in
Rain on the windshield following sound
Happy to be here I am only hoping
No one’s letting anyone down

As I loop this track over and over, letting it hum through my headphones, I allow the warmth of this summer evening to embrace me. My mind wanders through a quiet suburb, side by side with the person I love. As the stars appear like little lanterns, I am singing: “Happy to be here, I am only hoping no one’s letting anyone down.” Maybe I’ll like summer a little more this year.


Britta Joseph is a musician and artist who, when she isn’t listening to records or deep-diving emo archives on the internet, enjoys writing poetry, reading existential literature, and a good iced matcha. You can find her on Instagram and Twitter @brittajoes.

Embracing The Collective: An Interview with Jess Hall of Oldsoul

Photo by Hannah Kuhn

When I think about bands that are defining true community and excitement for the DIY scene right now, Oldsoul is high on the list. Their most recent album was hands down one of my favorites from 2023, but not only are they incredibly talented artists, they are committed to fostering an engaging, welcoming vibe wherever they go. It’s a common occurrence to see their lead singer, Jess Hall, operating with an unrelenting positive energy anytime I log onto social media, constantly uplifting bands and sharing good vibes. I myself resonate so deeply with this mentality, so when Jess mentioned on Twitter that Oldsoul was open to interviews, I jumped at the chance to pick her brain. We dug into Oldsoul’s approach to their social media presence and checked in on how the band has been since their most recent LP, Education On Earth, released last year through Counter Intuitive Records.


SWIM: Hello, Oldsoul the band! How have y’all been lately? 

JESS: Hi, loves. We're doing fantastic, thank you so much for asking.

SWIM: Y’all are very publicly adamant about there being no space between “Old” and “soul.” For readers who may not know, where did the band name come from, and why so much passion for the spacing? 

JESS: Oldsoul was my “cellar door” as a kid. I always liked the way the word sounded when you said it out loud. Also, it's extremely unsearchable, and I was definitely not considering that as a young person coming up with a band name. My logic was that it would help make it more searchable...? Maybe...?

SWIM: Congratulations on the release of your third LP Education on Earth last year! Now that y’all have that record a good year or so behind you, what is next for the band? 

JESS: Thank you so much for all the love and support you've shown us over at Swim Into The Sound. We are so happy ya'll received it well. Since the release in August, we've been jumping around our favorite northeastern hubs to hang with our friends / make new ones / promote our banger of a record. We were even lucky enough to play Fauxchella VI in October (shout out Summit Shack). We're also hanging in Scranton, PA, for Good Things Are Happening Fest in August. Oh! And we're writing new music. Very exciting.

SWIM: Education on Earth has been described as “fighting your own inner demons and the pull of nostalgia.” In an era of seemingly endless attempts to harvest people’s nostalgia, what are the dangers of this to you as a band? 

JESS: Personally, I don't really find it too dangerous because, at the end of the day, Oldsoul writes music we like that other people can connect to, and that's what really matters to us. What I find "dangerous" is how fast the world moves and how hard it is for everyone to keep up with all the content being blasted at us. We consume too quickly, in my opinion. 

SWIM: There are so many layers to the music in Education on Earth that reward listeners for revisiting the album. Is that something you are thinking about as you write the music, or is it just the product of having so many musical ideas you want to fit into a project? 

JESS: Tom and I are big texture people. We love adding layers and theatrics to our music because A) it's sick, and B) it keeps our music interesting. We also have a lot of fun adding final on-the-fly touches with our good friend and audio engineer Zach Weeks. He is the Master of Tone and always brings out the best in our songwriting. We're very lucky to have had God City as our playground.

SWIM: What does “post”-pandemic songwriting look like for you as a band? You’ve described Oldsoul as “collaborative” and “a collective.” How does this translate to future creation within the band?  

JESS: Typically, Tom [Stevens] and I formulate initial ideas on our own and then build the songs together. Sometimes one of us will have a heavier influence over the other, but we like to make it a collaborative effort. I've been using the words "collective" and "collaborative" more to describe how it feels to be a part of Oldsoul Nation. We wouldn't be where we are today without the support and love from the people around us. A band is a team effort.

SWIM: You’ve seen a personnel shift in the band in recent years as well. How did y’all come to this current iteration? 

JESS: Dan [Sweeney], Cam [Chapdelaine], and Justin [Sterchele] have been some of our best friends and biggest supporters over the years. We've all known each other for a long time. Super talented and driven people who help bring out the best in our live performance. 

SWIM: I’ve noticed that you're pretty active online and interested in building out those online community spaces, which I’m always a huge fan of myself! Why do y’all feel it’s so important to have a more high-energy approach to your online presence?

JESS: We want people to feel the energy wherever and however they choose to interact with us. I also get extremely excited when it comes to anything music-related.

SWIM: Jess, I loved your contributions to the latest Jimmy Montague album! Is there a collaboration y’all would love to see in this current DIY scene, either for the band or in general? 

JESS: I really appreciate that. James is a genius, and it was an honor to work with him. I would do it again in a heartbeat. I could think of a million insane collabs that could happen, but I find it really cool when bands explore alter-egos / different versions of themselves, whether they revamp an older song of theirs or experiment with an entirely different sound.

SWIM: Genres and music styles are so fluid these days, with so many bands venturing into completely different genres than they’re used to. If y’all made a record in a completely uncharted genre for the band, what do you think that would look like?

JESS: Oldsoul goes metalcore or Oldsoul goes twangcore.

SWIM: As a born and bred Pacific Northwesterner, I’ve noticed y’all have made it around the US quite a bit but somehow missed us up here. Are there any plans to make it up to the PNW any time soon?

JESS: A dream to play the West Coast/PNW for real. With touring being so expensive and our band being the size we are, I’m not entirely sure when we'll make it there. Hopefully we can spread the good word and change that, though.

SWIM: Are there specific cities y’all love playing in when you’re on tour? Favorite venues?

JESS: Not sure how much of an answer this is, but it's hard for me to pick a favorite place. We've had so many cool experiences all over – each city and crowd of people bringing their own energy. Chicago and Austin are really cool. Good food.

SWIM: Y’all have released all of your LPs through Counter Intuitive Records and are label mates with so many other incredible bands. What are your favorite things about working with CI that have kept you coming back to release with them?

JESS: It's been great working with CI and watching them build their empire from the ground up. They are extremely kind and hard-working people who have fostered an incredible community around music. We love our fam.

SWIM: Thank you so much for taking the time to do this interview! Did y’all have any closing thoughts to leave us with? What should the online people know about Oldsoul right now?

JESS: Thank you for asking us!!! We appreciate people like you spreading the good word about what's happening in the DIY world of music and giving bands like us a chance to share about ourselves!!!!

Stay locked in, excited to show y'all what's next. Love you. Thanks again. 

Xoxo Jess.


Ciara Rhiannon (she/her) is a pathological music lover writing out of a nebulous location somewhere in the Pacific Northwest within close proximity of her two cats. She consistently appears on most socials as @rhiannon_comma, and you can read more of her musical musings over at rhiannoncomma.substack.com.

Carly Cosgrove – The Cleanest of Houses Are Empty | Album Review

Wax Bodega

There are many ways a ghost can haunt a house. They could float through a wall unannounced to scare someone investigating a flickering light or stalk around their once-home, watching the current inhabitants but hesitating to appear. Maybe they are more malevolent and are seeking revenge, or perhaps they’re more mischievous and just want to move someone’s jewelry off a dresser and onto a bedside table. Despite various discrepancies in ghostly behavior, one commonality often cited is the appearance of a ghost re-enacting a scene, and not just re-enacting it once, but over and over, like they’re stuck on a loop. In some stories, they’re stuck in the monotony of the day – cooking, entering a room, pacing a hallway – forever. 

I’ve often felt incredibly sympathetic towards those stories, the idea of someone doomed to repeat a moment of their life over and over without any semblance of recognition that they’re trapped. However, there’s also a coldly enticing side to it, a protective force around you blocking the outside and keeping you in. I remember a moment in my life when I was staring at ceilings and watching spiders build webs around me while I ignored the passage of time. I felt like those ghosts too.

Despite how inescapable these loops can be and how tantalizing it can be to haunt your own life, it ultimately isn’t sustainable – Philadelphia’s Carly Cosgrove makes that clear in their sophomore album, The Cleanest of Houses Are Empty. As a band that has always been concerned with fixing the unfixable and obsessively analyzing ways to change, their latest release delves deeper into the abyss of self-reflection than they ever have before. Through 11 songs, the trio brave waves of isolation, frustration, and contemplation with instrumentation that has so much kinetic force it borders on a live recording.

Something immediately apparent in any Carly Cosgrove song is how singer and guitarist Lucas Naylor not only sings but performs his lyrics with the emphatic nature of the instrument he’s holding in his hands. Naylor uses rhyme patterns like chords and creates melodies from otherwise absurd metaphors. The band’s specific lexicon and near-punchline deliveries are trademark signifiers of any Carly Cosgrove song. The album’s first single, “You Old Dog,” offers an immediate example, opening with a promise and question. 

This time, I will turn my life around and do it right
And this time, I will turn my life around and do it. Right?

By establishing this premise and then immediately flipping it on its head with a minor change to the punctuation, the band deploys a lyrical sleight of hand usually reserved for card games. With these lines, Naylor summarizes the major motivations of The Cleanest of Houses Are Empty: breaking a habit with bolt cutters and then regretting that you broke them, all underscored by a twinge of unrecognized hope.

The fourth track, "Here's a Fork," is led by Helen Barsz's heartbeat bassline and kicks the lyricism into overdrive as the words sharpen into an interrogation. The barrage of self-reflection stacks up on itself, eventually toppling over on the final question, "Can I make right on an old light? / Try to be who I said when you met me?” before shifting into a repeated refrain, “I wish I could love the way you test me.” It’s a melancholy admittance and perhaps the answer to the litany of questions aimed at a familiar face or, somberly, the mirror. Naylor reiterates the question again, punctuating the song with a stated, actionable version instead of looking for an answer – “Wanna make right on an old light / Try to be who I said when you met me,” the opposite of the subtle switch found in “You Old Dog.” For a moment, on its final hum, the song breathes again, the music seemingly catching its breath while the lyrics sigh in relief at a glimmer of recovery. 

Past the crowd-surfable “Fluff My Pillow” and the crowd-chantable “Zoloft” is the album’s sudden shift. The introduction of “Random Dancing” is interruptive and declarative; it jolts the album’s narrative into a new setting. Instead of a static reflection relegated to unwashed comforters and pill bottles on counters, the song moves us outside, with lyrics about doing whatever “the dance” entails. Maybe the dance is trying to get to work on time or awkwardly sitting on a barstool while talking to friends who were previously locked out of misery’s trap. The song’s shift to a different setting widens the scope, like when the aspect ratio of a movie suddenly changes, and the sound accompanies it. This track is the biggest Carly Cosgrove has ever sounded, with a chorus made to be chanted and a guitar tone that reminds me why we call the instrument an ax. 

It’s largely understood that hauntings end when a ghost’s “unfinished business” is complete. What’s more applicable here is the idea that the haunting will end after fully breaking out of the loop. The penultimate track, “The Impact of this Exit,” is the snapping point of this constant replay; the self-confrontation needed to stop a previously unstoppable cycle. Musically, this is the most tangibly emo song on the album, weaving melancholy twinkly riffs over rolling percussion with raw honesty placed at the forefront. As the conversational lyrics of the song mount into an argument and begin to boil over, Tyler Kramer’s drumming rolls along, building steadily with the words until Naylor admits, “I don't wanna be your winner.” Kramer then breaks from the established rhythm and drops in with a loud, hollow crack from the drumkit. The haunting is over.

The album ends with “North Star Bar,” a melancholy song punctuated by deep breaths and the sharp cry of a trumpet. The song itself seems to come from beyond as it details a life never lived through a place never visited. It only exists in imagination, or at least hangs from above like a star. It’s quieter than the other songs and implies an opportunity to sing along with an audience who, like a ghost, isn’t there either. Naylor leaves the listener with one final confession, “The world I know is not the one I hoped it was, But it was there.” It’s a pensive conclusion, equal parts disappointed and begrudgingly hopeful. 

Ultimately, it doesn’t matter how many years a ghost had been trapped re-enacting what once was, or how many people watched on as they grimly re-lived their life. What matters is when the loop finally stops, what stopped it, and how it changed them – this is what matters most on The Cleanest of Houses Are Empty too.


Caro Alt’s (she/her) favorite thing in the world is probably collecting CDs. Caro is from New Orleans, Louisiana and spends her time not sorting her CD collection even though she really, really needs to.

Getting into the Lore with Nate Amos from This is Lorelei

Nate Amos is the multi-talented multi-instrumentalist known for his involvement in Water From Your Eyes and This is Lorelei (projects he refers to as “Water” and “Lorelei”). I have followed his projects for years, with the most recent Water From Your Eyes record, Everyone’s Crushed, topping my personal album of the year list. This is Lorelei is Amos’ solo project, and his transcendent new record, Box for Buddy, Box for Star, is out June 14th and deals with themes of loneliness, recovery, and aching longing, adorned with innovative and beautiful music. 

During my first listen of the album, I was overwhelmed by the beauty, innovation, and vulnerability of the music, and felt I had to speak with the person who made it. In anticipation of the record, I spoke with Amos over Zoom about the process of writing and performing this music. The conversation has been edited for clarity.


SWIM INTO THE SOUND: You’ve had a whirlwind year.

Nate Amos: Yeah.

SWIM: Last year, you released one of the year’s most acclaimed records with Everyone’s Crushed. You’ve been touring back to back, dropping new songs from both projects along the way, and you’re set to release yet another best record of the year. How are you feeling?

AMOS: I’m feeling good! It’s funny how with [This Is] Lorelei as a project, everything used to come out immediately as soon as it was done, so this is a pretty weird experience, waiting while it slowly rolls out. I’m used to that with Water From Your Eyes at this point, but not with Lorelei. The first year I finished the album without it coming out, it was something I thought about every day, and now it’s something I keep forgetting is happening.

SWIM: You’ve referred to the This is Lorelei project as a sort of diary, did that play into the creation of this album?

AMOS: Yeah, I mean it’s always kind of been equally diary and song study stuff. I write the lyrics by myself, so it inevitably tends to be a little more personal, but also, as a project, it’s just a lower-pressure arena to try different things out, at least for now. So there’s a little bit of the diary thing, but in the past, Lorelei has been very informal in terms of how I’ve worked on it. And this was all still in my bedroom, with no real plan. I feel like this album has set a higher bar for stuff that would end up on it. Normally an album would be all of the sixteen songs that I was able to make in ten days or something, whereas this album was ten of sixty or seventy songs that I wrote.

SWIM: Really?!

AMOS: Yeah, and some of it should never come out. Some of it has already come out because this was made in May to late July or August of 2022, so anything that came out on the Lorelei Spotify or whatever starting in summer 2022 is actually stuff that was written for and cut from this album.

SWIM: Okay, so “Bring Back My Dog” was originally gonna be on it? That’s one of my favorites. It’s so crazy that you decided to cut that!

AMOS: I mean, it’s more like once all the songs were done, part of it was figuring out what songs I thought were good enough for it, and the other one was figuring out what kind of character the album was trying to be. And the “Bring Back My Dog” song, I just kind of couldn’t–it had kind of a different vibe to it. 

There were two songs on that EP… well, let me think, there were like two days when four songs got made. Two of them ended up on that EP, and two of them ended up on the album. I was also like, “Why shouldn’t this be on the album?” It just didn’t feel right. At one point, the album was like… I had to let go of a lot because it was 32 tracks at one point, and it was so, so long. And I was trying to figure out how to make it work, and at one point, had a voice memo phone recording explaining why the album’s so long and apologizing for it, and I was like, “This is ridiculous, I should just chill out and choose a group of songs that works,” and make an album.

SWIM: So it was a very intentional winnowing down.

AMOS: Yeah, yeah, definitely.

SWIM: You’re a multi-instrumentalist, and on this album and for previous EPs you’ve released, you use a lot of instruments that aren’t typically in the rock suite. On this one, I caught string samples, piano, chiptune synths, and I thought I heard a child’s xylophone in there, too. Is that right?

AMOS: Let me think. Okay, so the thing that sounds kind of like a xylophone? That’s a toy piano that goes on throughout the song “Where’s Your Love Now.” So that’s just a phone recording of me playing around on one that I looped. I’m trying to think of chiptune stuff.

SWIM: Maybe it was just sped up.

AMOS: I’m trying to remember. There’s a lot of sampling stuff. Even though the album is way more straightforward than Water From Your Eyes, there’s still kind of a way I put things together. There are a lot of samples, loops, and instruments that I can’t play by myself, like orchestral string instruments and wind instruments.

SWIM: Makes sense. Do you have a favorite instrumental moment on this album that might be hard to catch on the first listen?

AMOS: I got a lot. It’s funny because I’ve listened to this album again recently, and now it feels different. I like the second-to-last song, “Two Legs,” a lot. There’s a song called “My Boy Limbo” that has an almost messed-up-sounding instrumental thing that I like. 

That was kind of one of the challenges with this project because I was trying not to go nuts with cool sounds and Easter eggs; the whole idea was to really hone it in to be more about the song than the production, which I felt [was] something that had gotten–not lost in things I’ve done in the past, but because I enjoy music production and am a nerd, I would end up just thinking about that more than the writing itself. This album was definitely an attempt to A) worry about the content more than the sound, and B) focus on the individual songs rather than the overall concept, and have it be a cohesive album but very much a set of ten individual songs that don’t really rely on each other, but make each other stronger.

SWIM: That makes a lot of sense. I was listening to “Two Legs” again this morning, it’s so, so beautiful, and the lyrics are so vulnerable. It’s a little bit reminiscent of Elliott Smith in terms of the melody and also just the abject sadness. Is it hard being frank about heartache?

AMOS: Yes. But again, with this album, it was funny because there is a lot of earnestness to the lyrical content of the album, but part of the idea–or almost part of the bit, dare I say, was to zone in on these classic singer-songwriter archetypes in a way where the subject can relate to something I feel. But it’s more of like an exercise in writing that particular kind of song because that particular kind of song is this almost a standardized thing that has been attempted by all sorts of people over the evolution of pop music. Maybe it’s a combination of different things too, because it’s got some weird, almost Disney-like lullaby stuff going on. 

So it’s weird sometimes… it feels like a little exposed, but also I feel like maybe even if no one else knows, to me, there’s like a character that I’m playing on this album, so there are elements of me in it, but it also doesn’t feel entirely connected to me. Not that that song–every word in that song is true in one way or another, but something about participating in a tradition that belongs to so many people, you can reframe it in a way that feels a little less personal. I don’t know if that makes sense.

SWIM: Sure, absolutely. It has a core of truth, as Greta Gerwig would say. But the growth is maybe something embellished or imaginary. Speaking of operating in a tradition, the first song, “Angel’s Eye”… a country song. You write a magnificent country song, I was really surprised by that.

AMOS: Oh, thank you.

SWIM: Why did you choose to start the record off with that one?

AMOS: It just kind of made sense. So, that song was later on in the recording process. By the time it was written, there had already been a couple of versions of the album that I had thought were finished, but then I took it apart, and honestly, I really liked that one. It didn’t feel like it would work anywhere other than the beginning, and I didn’t have a first track that I was really attached to at that point. Then I tried it as the opener, and it was kind of like, “Yeah, okay, that’s how it’s supposed to be.”

SWIM: You sing it in two registers, almost as two voices, in two separate worlds.

AMOS: Yeah, it’s a duet.

SWIM: So why did you choose to sing it alone?

AMOS: Because I was alone. 

[laughter]

AMOS: I like the idea… that’s something that shows up in at least two places on this album, where I am playing two different vocalists, essentially. And also I thought it would be funny. That is a very earnest song, and I do like it a lot, but it’s about an alien abducting a cowboy, and the alien and the cowboy falling in love, and then the alien has to drop the cowboy back off, and they’re both kind of like “what the fuck is this?”

SWIM: Wow, I thought it was about a ghost or an angel, actually, so the angel’s eye is a tractor beam?

AMOS: Kind of, essentially. I don’t know, I don’t have all the lore. [laughter] When the song’s actually being sung, the higher-pitched voice is the angel and the lower-pitched one is the cowboy, and the cowboy’s just kinda yelling at the sky.

SWIM: Yeah. Do you think aliens are real?

AMOS: I don’t know if I’m qualified to argue that anything is real. I think that the fact that we’re so sure about what’s going on to ourselves just means there’s a lot of stuff we don’t understand. I don’t know if I believe in aliens, necessarily, but I do believe we have no clue what’s going on.

SWIM: That’s a balanced take, I think.

AMOS: It’s more fun to think that way, I don’t know. I love conspiracy theories and alien content, and I don’t know how seriously I take it. And I don’t know how much it matters; it makes more sense to me than a lot of things people spend their time doing.

SWIM: I think my grandmother saw a UFO in Wisconsin in the ‘60s.

AMOS: Really?

SWIM: I think the government is hiding stuff from us.

AMOS: I’m about it. I’m here for it. I want to know.

SWIM: Same! Back to music…

AMOS: Okay, if we have to.

SWIM: Have you considered forming a country band or a country project?

AMOS: I grew up playing bluegrass music. My father is a bluegrass musician. So that music is very deeply ingrained in me, and I really do love country music, but no, I’ve never thought of starting a country band. There’s never been any long-term, consistent band for Lorelei just because, stylistically, it’s kind of all over the place. So it’s just been easier for me to figure it out show by show. But I’ve been playing with Al [Nardo] and Bailey [Wollowitz], who also play Water From Your Eyes live.

SWIM: The drummer?

AMOS: Yeah, Bailey plays drums, and Al plays bass in Lorelei and guitar in Water.

SWIM: A lot of your songs mention airports and foreign countries, are those taken from your experiences touring? You talked about this album as being from the perspective of a character.

AMOS: I mean yes and no; again, it’s like I was definitely in an airport not long before I wrote one of these songs, and I might not have written it if I hadn’t been in the airport, but I wasn’t like “I gotta write about this airport!” It was more like… going back to using archetypal song elements where you have name-dropping cities, methods of travel, talking about money, stuff like that. All these things have been beaten to death in songwriting to the point where they’re just tools you can use to do anything. And then there’s trying to develop your own little ideas that you treat as normal and use them in the same way, but they’re unique to the album. That’s something that can blur everything into a lyrical texture that I really like. Use stuff people are used to hearing, then aggressively use things they might not have heard, but smash it all together. So it’s like half and half. Sometimes if a place is name-dropped or a vehicle is mentioned, it’s a real thing. And half the time it’s just not.

SWIM: So what is it like being from Water From Your Eyes, which is a band where you don’t sing, and another project where your voice is on pretty much every song? Is that a strange asymmetry to navigate?

AMOS: I mean, it’s strange. I don’t know how difficult it is. They’re both projects that, at this point, I know very well, and I have a sort of particular mindset for each of them. And it’s kind of like playing two different sports. They’re just separate enough that they don’t really get in the way of each other. I definitely, as of now, have clocked more hours just playing guitar in front of people than singing. I don’t really like singing in front of people, but I guess if I’m trying to do this, then I have to. We did a back-to-back tour where it just flipped from one thing to the other halfway through, and it didn’t feel all that weird. It’s a different kind of fun.

SWIM: That’s great, I caught a lyric on “An Extra Beat For You And Me,” the little “water from my eyes” line. Is that a nod to your other project?

AMOS: Yeah.

SWIM: I was also wondering, do you know the “Buffalo Stance” song by Neneh Cherry? 

AMOS: No, I don’t think so.

SWIM: She has a little interlude where she goes “water from my eyes,” and I was like crossover moment!

AMOS: Oh, whoa, I did not know that. That’s cool.

SWIM: Anyways, I was curious why you included the little nod.

AMOS: I don’t know what the initial idea was. I just kind of wrote it, and then I was like, “Is that too silly?” Because it is kind of funny to nod at it, but I realized there’s this recurring theme where once every couple of years, I’ll write a song and just kind of sneak that phrase into it. The last one is a song that Water ended up doing called “When You’re Around.”

SWIM: Yeah! Yeah.

AMOS: Someone originally asked me to write a song for a movie.

SWIM: A karaoke scene, right?

AMOS: Yeah, yeah, yeah. That song is the same thing. It doesn’t really mean anything that it’s in there. It just kind of happened that way.

SWIM: Is it crying? Is it sad crying or happy crying?

AMOS: It could be either. In that song, it’s more of an overwhelmed cry throughout it, rather than a sad thing.

SWIM: Yeah. Beautiful. I have another question about country music for you. We’re almost out of time. Growing up in a bluegrass environment where people were playing country music and country-adjacent music constantly… do you have favorite country musicians?

AMOS: Oh, yeah. I mean, in terms of traditional bluegrass, it’s not something I listen to all the time, but there are certain standard things in that genre that blew my mind, like the early stuff like Bill Monroe, Flatt and Scruggs, and The Stanley Brothers. A lot of what I grew to love later in life was stuff that’s kind of like rock-country hybrid because I viewed those as such separate things, and at a certain point, was kind of like the purist mindset, where there’s like the old-time bluegrass music, and I didn’t like it when that was taken and applied to other things. But I got really into [it]. 

Discovering Gram Parsons and the Flying Burrito Brothers was an interesting thing at one point because I missed them until later in life. Favorite country musicians… Townes Van Zandt. As I got older, I became more into country as a songwriting style in a way that I didn’t really think about as a kid, where it was more about the music itself rather than as a medium for writing that I might use.

SWIM: Do you think there will be more country music in your future?

AMOS: Probably! I don’t know, I have no idea. I never really know until the album is off and running. And this album certainly didn’t–the intention was not to open with a country song. But it was how I was studying Shane McGowan a lot, and I feel like that bled through pretty obviously in some of the tracks. But I don’t know; it depends on when I have time to make a Lorelei album again and what I’m into at that point.

SWIM: Yeah, it seems like you’ll be pretty busy for the foreseeable future.

AMOS: Yeah, I mean, ideally, I’d like to get on a schedule where I’m alternating and have some sort of album coming out every year alternating between projects. But we’ll see if that happens. I haven’t figured out how to do that yet. [laughter] Probably more country songs, yeah. Not exclusively country songs.

SWIM: Well, I’m excited to see more country songs and non-country songs. Thank you again for taking the time.

AMOS: No problem, thank you for having me.

SWIM: Good luck with the rest of your tour and album rollout. I think it’s going to be historic.

AMOS: Thank you. I’m glad you like it.


Elizabeth is a writer and 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.