Webbed Wing – Vol. III | Album Review

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Memory Music

No matter how many parties you attend, vacations you plan, or hours you spend napping under a blue sky, there’s always a point in the summer when the sun’s glow turns into sunburns. Suddenly, the season’s promise becomes covered in sweat and mosquito bites. The once-endless days that stretched before you are now hazy nights long behind you. When the sun goes down, it’s all briefly too much: too hot, too humid, the day was too long, and oh yeah, are my friends, like, mad at me or something? Did I suck at that party I just left? Why is the bar always so crowded? It's like 100 degrees out. Do I just need to drink water or something? The overwhelming nature of the season sets as fast and low as a sudden summer storm cloud.

With guitars that test how high your car speakers can go and lyrics that dictate a spiraling internal monologue, Superheaven’s Taylor Madison and Jake Clarke are back with Mike Paulshock for Webbed Wing’s loudest project yet, Vol. III. The group’s third album solidifies the genre-melding music Webbed Wing is best at–combining garage grunge, 90s alt-radio rock, and fuzzed-out country with their signature guitar shredding. Through ten tracks, Vol. III, soundtracks that looming feeling that you did something wrong at a house party, and also maybe your whole life, while you sit on a plastic lawn chair in jorts. 

If you weren’t ready to rock out with the album’s opener, “Further,” you have about two seconds to brace yourself before “Tortuga” kicks in. The chords hang low, surrounded by static, as Madison laments the bitter feeling that he drags the people around him down. This is a common thread throughout the album, a near-obsessive worry about how others might see you–not how they actually criticize you, but how you think they might. Through the song, the pang of insecurity winds through the guitar strings as the opening static builds into the first livewire solo of the album. The repeated lyrics fold into the melody as the guitar soars and dives in a way that feels almost improvised if it wasn’t so precise. The solo is full of frustration but pushes forward, ultimately crossing the finish line of the impossible race the lyrics describe.

If “Further” was a race, then “So It Goes” is an all-out sprint. It’s the music for a montage at a particularly frustrating part of a movie, and it’s the song that will make you jump at a show. The track feels chasmic as it repeats the universal conclusion, “You’re never gonna get what you feel like you’re owed.” While in other bands this might be a particularly grim lyric, spiteful even, it’s not with Webbed Wing. Instead, it’s factual; it’s just a reality-based observation. The band threads this declaration through the song and ties it together with a relentlessly heavy drum beat, delivering a crushing weight before a brief lull.

The final hum of “So It Goes” feeds directly into “Hero’s Death” – the closest Vol. III ever gets to a breather. The song diverts from the cannonballing drums and pick slides for quieter introspection, allowing the audience a brief period of reflection now that they’ve reached the halfway point. It sits amongst other recent ballad breaks like Militarie Gun’s “See You Around” or Liquid Mike’s “Am,” and its twang feels evocative of Ratboys’ “Black Earth, WI.” While other songs on the album use indirectness to convey their observations, this one looks the listener straight on and relies on layers of self-doubt combined with tongue-in-cheek overconfidence to protect itself from vulnerability. While the personal lyrics toe the line between humor and honesty, the outrageous desires laid out in the lyrics meet the sound, creating a huge and spiraling song. After sitting on your roof in a panic about how weird the summer has been, it’s the equivalent of tipping your head back, breathing in the night air, and staring at the stars sprawling across the sky. It’s not a solution, but it’s a break.

Past an always-appreciated whistle break in “Change Me,” the Nashville keyboard in “I Shared a Cell,” and the psychedelia-infused riffs of “Take It From Me” are the final barnstormers of the album. Vol. III (and Webbed Wing generally) is, first and foremost, a necessary case study on why guitars are the coolest thing in the world, and “Where Mortal Men Dare Not Tread” is the album’s best example. It’s a stoner rock instrumental track that digs its roots deep and spirals up, big and bold, casting a shadow on the rest of the songs. It looms, it sneers, it has a harmonica. Fueled by brash kinetic energy, it reminds me of the relentless buzz of cicadas on a summer night and the feeling that the night sky that briefly offered solace might crash down around you at any moment. 

The album ends on “My Front Door,” the last chance for Webbed Wing to throw in everything they have. The closer takes several turns, switching between the final song a radio station DJ might play before their shift ends and the encore a beloved country act would break out at the end of a festival after the amps have already been humming with hours of electricity. But its finality is apparent as it lulls the album to a natural close. Between a stadium drumbeat, a brief bass solo, and guitar riffs outrunning the rest of the song, “My Front Door” feels like the sun is slowly coming up on the horizon. 

Every weird, gross summer night will end eventually, and the sun will come up. That doesn’t mean that things that ignited exhaustion are suddenly gone; it’s just an assurance that there will always be another day. Similarly, Webbed Wing is not in the business of just saying it’ll be fine, it will happen, and it will eventually be over, and it might happen again. So, unstick your thighs from that lawn chair, turn off the porch light, and call it a night. 

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.

Bob Dylan Live At the Veterans Something-Or-Other-Amphitheatre

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I saw Bob Dylan live in concert for the second time at the Veterans United Home Loans Amphitheater in Virginia Beach. Inching into the gravel parking lot, my friends and I saw big signs stamped with warnings that tailgating was not just prohibited but illegal, not that it would’ve been particularly pleasant in the muggy coastal heat, anyway. So we settled for $14 beers inside the complex, a purchase I justified to myself by reasoning that since it’s a 24 oz can, it’s more like two $7 beers, and that’s not an absurd price to pay for a drink, right? Right?

It was the kind of crowd that you would expect from a venue with this name – a crowd that cheered louder for a flyover of Chinook military helicopters during “Ballad of a Thin Man” than they did for just about anything else. Not that this perturbed Dylan, of course. It seems pretty obvious by now that he’s not on tour for the money or some gratification that comes from the cheering masses but just because he likes to play whatever he wants. This is a trait that is charming to some and aggravating to many others.

Consider this chain of events from when I first saw him live last fall: Bob Dylan takes the stage precisely on time. No opener, no set decoration. Road cases are lying on the stage. He and his band play about twelve songs. No banter, no song titles. After the twelfth song, he angles his head toward the crowd and, almost as if he’s surprised that we’re there, says, “Oh! Thank you!” He introduces the band, plays about five more songs, takes a bow, and walks off the stage. Perfect.

True to his shape-shifting ways, the Bob Dylan I saw perform at the Outlaw Music Festival last month was different. Everything felt a bit looser, from the tan shirt he wore unbuttoned down almost to his belly button to the sometimes sloppy arrangements of songs like “I’ll Be Your Baby Tonight,” which is the one 60s tune he’s played both times I’ve seen him. He was somewhat chattier, too, addressing the audience a grand total of four times (we counted) and chuckling into the mic when he fumbled some of the words to “Shooting Star.” Bob doesn’t play the guitar anymore, but when he gets excited about a song, he stands up while jamming his hands into the keys of his grand piano. 

But forget the guitar-strumming, the kabuki makeup, and the offputting setlists. Bob Dylan could wear his pajamas and sing nothing but nursery rhymes and it would still be a don’t-miss-it-for-the-world performance because of that voice. Many vocalists lose their luster once they can’t hit the high notes anymore, but Dylan’s voice is still stunningly malleable even after six decades of performing. He sneers and bites through a cover of Chuck Berry’s “Little Queenie,” then softens into a croon for doo-wop standard “Mr. Blue.” Sure, a lot of the appeal for me comes from his Tom Waits-cragginess, but it’s also the little things you don’t expect, the little leaps up into falsetto (“and he walks up to YOU when he hears you speak”), the ends of phrases that sound like snide little comments only you can hear. 

When you hear Bob Dylan sing, it’s hard to imagine that he’ll sing that specific song that specific way ever again. He’ll start a line during the buildup to a verse just to see what it sounds like in words wherever it seems like they belong. His longtime drummer, Jim Keltner, described him in an interview as being almost like a jazz vocalist, and you could really hear it on that Wednesday evening in Virginia Beach. Hoping to sing along to “Ballad of a Thin Man” or “Simple Twist of Fate”? Forget about it. It’s a wonderful gift to hear a song you love and to be forced to pay such close attention, to constantly wonder how the next line will be delivered.

Bob Dylan is 83 years old. He’s been around long enough that some of his songs about old age are nearly 30 years old themselves. And he’s still got it. The band is rock solid, the voice is as interesting as ever, and the songs speak for themselves. Go see Bob Dylan because whatever tour date you end up at, no one else will see anything like it again.

John Dietz is a writer and musician based in Virginia. You can find them on Twitter @johndbdietz or Substack at https://johndietz.substack.com. 

Excuse Me, Who Are You? – Double Bind | Album Review

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Thumbs Up Records

I have a sinking feeling that I was a lot cooler two years ago. Back then, I was on top of new releases, ran like 20 miles a week, and always sang in the shower. Now, most days, I feel like I’m aspiring to be my old self. I lived abroad for two years and realized a few things pretty quickly: you never get back the time you spend, last-minute international plane tickets are heartbreakingly expensive, and there’s no such thing as a “makeup” funeral. I moved home last month, and, in a recent effort to correct course, I’ve been listening to “The Good Life” by Weezer twice a day (doctor’s orders) and leaning back into my old interests. Specifically, I’ve been reading way between the lines of music I like.

Excuse Me, Who Are You? (stylized as EMWAY) popped up on my radar two years ago, just after I left the US. Their debut single, “... In The Test Chamber,” was a 4-minute mission statement released in early 2022, showcasing everything the group brought to the Wisconsin emo scene and screamo at large. Noisy and unconstrained, the song was an instant addition to my running playlist, and I’ve listened to it multiple times a week since then. At the time, I remember being surprised that there was only one bangin’ single from an act that was clearly going somewhere. Luckily, I didn’t have to wait long for the group to release their Half-Life-themed EP About That Beer I Owed Ya in October of the same year. 

Two years later, EMWAY have doubled down on their companion-piece method and screamed out an 18-minute LP where every song references or samples the film Perfect Blue, a 1998 animated psychological thriller directed by Satoshi Kon. The album takes its name from the movie’s fictional film-within-a-film, Double Bind. The release was accompanied by an impressively orchestrated rollout campaign with interviews, features in zines and blogs, music videos, and watch parties. 

It might surprise listeners to learn Double Bind has been in the making since 2021, even before EMWAY’s EP. In addition to crushing vocals, driving percussion, and aggressive but tappy guitar work, the album has tasteful flourishes and consistent theming throughout, making the whole piece strikingly cohesive. The lyrics “I think about it all the time / I think about you all the time” from “https://mimasroom.com” exemplifies the sentiment of rumination heard throughout the album and even calls back to the band’s EP, where the same lyrics are present in “Chicken Cock.” 

Sound bites introduce and conclude several songs, and ambient cues in key positions weave a unique soundscape with a careful balance between in-your-face despair and faraway ennui. These small details work together to make the album feel like an 18-minute musical short story rather than eight individual songs. Every song has forward momentum that pushes you through charged riffs, drags you under waves of twinkly atmosphere, and pummels you with throat-shredding vocal demonstrations.

Now, I’ve listened to a ton of emo and emo-adjacent music, and any time I hear a sample, I throw the song into a playlist called “Emo Media Recs.” I like to find these samples organically and mostly keep this playlist for myself as a reminder to watch the movies, TV shows, or video games that are referenced because I think understanding the broader context can give greater depth to the song. Most bands that do this sort of sampling might have one or two songs on an album with a sample, but those samples are usually from different places. EMWAY is unique in this aspect because every song of theirs has a reference of some kind, either to Half-Life in the case of their EP or Perfect Blue in the case of this new album. It’s fair to say this thing is absolutely littered with references and heavy themes, stuff that’s sure to get stuck in your teeth.

My favorite track is “https://mimasroom.com,” which is titled after a fictitious blog from Perfect Blue. The blog is written by a fan impersonating their idealized version of the main character’s former pop persona (I promise that string of words makes sense, please just watch the movie). In real life, the link takes you to an active website supporting the film, also including some blog entries we see in the movie. It’s a cool late 90’s stab at immersive media, with all the nostalgic ephemera you would expect from a blog on the early internet. This song sticks out to me for its impressive blending of styles and awesome feature from Caleb Hynes of Hey, Ily; its placement as the fourth track is the perfect switch-up. The bits of ambience in songs before feel like they lead up to this sort of faraway composition, and the more subdued parts of the album afterward feel like they’re recalling this song as a memory. Hey, Ily’s particular talent for blending chiptune and lo-fi techniques with shouts, screams, and in-betweens is front-and-center here and caused me to immediately revisit their 2022 album Psychokinetic Love Songs.

On the topic of featured musicians, four out of eight tracks on the album showcase emo talents from across the Midwest. In addition to Caleb Hynes from Hey, Ily, Tyler Stodghill of Stars Hollow is featured on the album’s lead single, “Maybe That Truck Hit Me… And This Is All a Dream…” Stars Hollow also recently released an EP that fellow Swimmer Brandon Cortez reviewed here. Next are Madison locals Ben Ludens of Tiny Voices and Maxwell Culver of Endswell, featured on “Volcano Balls” and “Double Bind,” respectively. Endswell, who shares band members with EMWAY, just released their debut EP, with a review soon to come on this very site! Clearly, there is a lot of emo talent in one geographic location, and all the groups embody DIY ethics that keep friends together and push the scene to new heights. This sort of team-up can also be seen on Tiny Voices’ 2023 album Make Up Your Place, which features both Endswell and EMWAY. It’s a good feeling to hear great artists working with other great artists, and I have officially put “See an emo show in Madison” on my list of “Life Goals for 2024” because of this album. 

Despite the name, I don’t actually think Double Bind is about being caught between a rock and a hard place. The lyrics from Kyle Kinney are about his father’s passing, past relationships, and friends, which makes the title an interesting choice. My definition of a double bind is “being forced to make a losing choice in an emotionally tumultuous power imbalance, where no other course of action is possible or appropriate.” The movie Perfect Blue follows a young woman who finds herself in such a situation after jumping ship from a middling career as a pop star to try acting, where the roles are much more demanding than she anticipated. She has no way back from this choice and begins to lose her sense of self, at times believing she is the character she plays in the film-within-a-film, Double Bind. To me, this album has much more to do with losing your sense of self than with the literal concept of a lose-lose situation.

Grief haunts you. Losing someone changes you, often in ways we can’t understand until months or years later. Even after understanding, parts of your identity may be lost or changed forever. It’s a natural process of growing older, but knowing that doesn’t make it less painful or easier to deal with. Double Bind is a reaction to that grief, collecting honest bits of self-reflection, voicing frustration at life, and delivering a fulfilling musical performance, all neatly tied together with the thread from an old anime. EMWAY needed this album to get it all off their chest, setting themselves up for growth and the next big thing.

Braden is a nerdy guy from small-town Kansas who is really into emo music. He is working towards a PhD in experimental particle physics, but when he isn’t struggling to do data science, he’s running around and normally listening to good music too. You can find more of him on Substack, Twitter, Instagram, Strava, GitHub, or TikTok @braden.allmond.

Bacchae – Next Time | Album Review

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Get Better Records

The Trader Joe’s near my job lost their effort to unionize last year. It was a tied vote, which legally counts as a loss for those attempting to consolidate worker power. The employees reported consistent union-busting tactics, including tried and true lies about losing beneficial aspects of the job if the union comes into place. All the time and energy people put into collectivizing their place of employment was gone just like that. I had talked with a worker there multiple times about the effort, and the defeat in their voice when they told me it ended in a tie was crushing.

What do you do when the momentum fueling change is cut short? Working-class people have to balance their time between working shit jobs to earn a living, running tedious errands like grocery shopping and laundry, and engaging with pastimes that make living worthwhile. So it is understandable that, when attempts to improve our conditions are shut down, we retrench and hold on to the small comforts we have in the status quo.

This position is where we find Bacchae on Next Time, their first record since 2020’s stunning Pleasure Vision. The band sounds paralyzed over worldly and deeply personal attempts to improve their conditions. Next Time is the sound of knowing the world is fucked and feeling powerless to make any change. 

Bacchae illustrates the dehumanization of wage workers, like my local Trader Joe’s team, on lead single “Cooler Talk,” in which Katie McD sings about how “they treat us like dogs / in a comfortable cage.” When McD sings this, I’m reminded of the Hotelier’s controversial ballad “Housebroken,” which uses an abused dog as a metaphor for those who buy into the status quo. Sure, we may have a comfortable cage and a constant supply of new toys, but that’s only to distract us from the fact that barely scraping by isn’t the life we deserve. No matter how much we buy into the system, McD reminds us that “our degradation is priceless / it keeps it all afloat.” Our captors have no interest in improving our actual conditions, but they’re willing to throw us a bone whenever we get a little too restless. 

Next Time is full of tracks grappling with labor exploitation, but while “Cooler Talk” is fit for the crowd at the barricade to finger-point over each others’ heads as they scream along to cries of “run me raw,” Bacchae throw in fun curveballs with tracks like the astoundingly catchy “Dead Man.” The syncopated rhythms and dancehall keys make the cautionary tale of dying at your desk even more haunting as bassist Rena Hagins sings with glee that “he wanted much more.” It’s as if she’s singing from the perspective of a manager laughing at someone for dreaming of a life outside of the company. 

“Dead Man” is what happens when you’re lucky after buying into the system. You’re allowed to grow old in slight discomfort, but on the title track, McD makes clear that the opposite is equally possible: “Tomorrow you’ll be just the same / squealing like a popped balloon.” What is the point of buying into the status quo? It takes just as much hope to dream you’ll be on top someday as to envision a better world for everyone. 

And that’s where the album opens on “Try,” McD sounds tired as she begs, and pleads, and kicks, and screams for a scarp of imagination in the chorus. Throughout the song, Andrew Breiner’s guitar playing scrapes and butts up against possibilities, putting on a face to try and make it through the day while the the drums and bass lock into the rhythms of everyday life. 

While much of Next Time laments the state of the world, its best moments are when McD and the band turn their gaze toward personal relationships. “Feeling The Same” is the sound of what it felt like when I was younger and formed all-consuming crushes on girls with dreams of being loved despite my inability to form a coherent sentence because I was so afraid of rejection. McD seems to feel the same, “when I see you stare / I find myself looking down.” Love requires complete surrender, a willingness to show someone the part of yourself that makes you feel shame. The pre-chorus builds on the repetition of “Could I see myself in the heart of another?” before the chorus makes clear that “I’m so fucked up / I’m scared of love.” 

That fear of hurt and rejection often keeps people in comfortable relationships, even with a partner that makes you feel worthless. What makes “New Jersey” such a reprieve is that McD is singing about escaping a collapsing relationship over the record's brightest, most anthemic melody. “New Jersey” is a joyous celebration of abandoning your fears and saying goodbye to someone who never defends you and always treats you as second best. I want to throw my fists up in celebration when McD calls her ex an asshole. You want to laugh along because, fuck it, you can just say goodbye and hope for better. 

That same hope for better that illuminates McD’s exodus to “New Jersey” animates the mid-album cut “Just a Rat.” Over the danciest groove on the entire record, the gang envisions themselves as vermin, and it’s an apt comparison. To someone like Jeff Bezos, are we anything more than a rodent scrambling for the scraps that trickle down to us? When we’re running to the grocery store with a tight budget at the end of a paycheck, how different are we from the rat poking through the garbage? But as McD sings, those with power are scared of the rats, and we’ve got their house surrounded. 

I hope the next time my Trader Joe’s attempts to unionize, they remember the advice Next Time offers. We can’t live in our fear when we have them surrounded.

Lillian Weber is a fake librarian in NYC. She writes about gender, music, and other inane thoughts on her substack, all my selves aligned. You can follow her burner account on Twitter @Lilymweber.

Summer BBQ Bangers Courtesy of Swim Into The Sound

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The dog days of summer are officially here, which means for the next couple months, it’s time to make the most of the scorching temperatures and extensive sunlight; just don’t forget your sunscreen. The time is now to venture outdoors and embrace everything the summer has to offer, from outdoor festivals to walks around the park and ice cream excursions (save me a scoop of strawberry). 

Here at Swim HQ, we firmly believe the best part about summer is backyard barbecues with your friends and family. There’s something about that grill smell combined with the warm weather and people you love that brings the summer together better than the macaroni and cheese your favorite aunt cooks. There’s only one thing that separates an all-day rager from a total snooze fest. Can you guess what that is? No worries, I’ll just go ahead and tell you it’s all about the music. 

Music is the key component at any pool party, barbecue, or box social you have ever attended. The stakes get raised even higher during the summer because everything revolves around large gatherings of people outside trying to live their best lives in the heat. So, a perfectly curated playlist created by your own bare hands is the cherry on top of the sundae. 

There's no better feeling than seeing everyone bobbing their heads and strutting their stuff to songs you painstakingly sourced from your streaming services. Setting the party off with an immaculate playlist in America is the equivalent of being knighted in England. The only difference is that people across the pond get medals for their achievements. What laws must we pass to get trophies handed out to people who can turn a party out with their musical taste? Imagine showing up to a barbecue holding three trophies from your musical dalliances; talk about an icebreaker. 

I know what you're thinking: what makes for a good summer barbecue rock song? You can go a few different ways. The nostalgic approach is a surefire home run; go with a song everyone knows that brings back memories of yesteryear. Alternatively, uptempo pop-leaning rock is another genre that can't miss, music that is easy to digest while people are eating food that isn't so digestible. Lastly, if you want to show off your musical knowledge, sneak some underground bands into the playlist. What better feeling is there than seeing folks trying to Shazam the songs that you’re severing up off the queue? 

The only “BBQ don't” is to avoid any Nu Metal, and I say that from personal experience. Heed my warning: if you play even three Limp Bizkit songs, a gang of bros will magically appear like Beetlejuice, breaking glasses and stepping on furniture while wearing backward caps. Instant mood killer, trust me. 

Now that you know the rules of the game, it’s time to construct your playlist. Below, you will find some choice selects from our esteemed Swim Team. Feel free to use these songs as jumping-off points for your own backyard summer barbecue to set the vibes in the right direction and maybe even earn some bragging rights as a supreme music curator. 

Nickelback – “Photograph”

Roadrunner

I personally guarantee that more than 75% of BBQ attendees will pretend not to know the lyrics to this song, but I posit that Nickelback is the ultimate summertime guilty pleasure. Despite pushing 20, “Photograph” still sounds like just as much of a hit single as it did when it was first released. Plus, the song is the perfect conduit for classic BBQ conversations like ‘Remember when we went and did that thing at that place?’ and ‘Hey, what do you think Blank is up to these days?’ With the benefit of hindsight and time, these middle-school-joke songs have now become dad-rock classics. And even though it’s incredibly indulgent, the song is self-aware, reminding us that memories are meant to push us forward, not trap us in the past. Bonus points for giving a Canadian cultural export airtime at the USA’s birthday party.

Braden Allmond - @braden.allmond


Oso Oso – “all of my love”

Yunahon Entertainment

It’s important to have a song at your BBQ with some quick claps in it. Clap-clap-clap. There’s a good chance your get-together will be made up of people you’ve met at various stages of your life, some of whom don’t really know each other. Giving everyone a chance to clap together will do a lot to build comradery/save you the headache of an awkward party. Not everyone will know this song, but because it’s short and very good, you can probably get away with playing it like five or six times over the course of a few hours; once repetition three hits, people should get what’s going on, and from there, you’re all set. Everyone will be clapping together (clap-clap-clap), laughing, and sharing stories; it’ll just be a good time. Getting a bunch of people together can be stressful, let “all of my love” do some of the heavy lifting so you can focus on the grill.  

Josh Ejnes - @joshejnes


XTC – “Summer’s Cauldron”

Virgin Records

Almost 40 years later, I’m still not sure why you’d release an album like XTC’s Skylarking in October. Beyond the sounds of bees and heavy humidity that open “Summer’s Cauldron,” the British band’s Todd Rundgren-produced masterpiece is essential dog days music. It might evoke walking through a wooded clearing at sunrise after taking mushrooms more than grilling brats, but it welcomes a warm weather mindset no matter when or where you’re listening. You don’t have to be lying in an English countryside field to appreciate “Summer’s Cauldron” — in fact, it proves just as potent out on the porch, soaking up Minnesota’s eclectic summertime. XTC’s dappled psychedelic pop shouts for the sun to join in the party, even while Andy Partridge sings of drowning “under mats of flower lava.” This is also how I would want to go.

Aly Eleanor - @purityolympics


D’Angelo – “Spanish Joint”

Virgin Records

D'angelo's Voodoo is a hot, thick, sweaty, and bright delight for all five of your senses. The album is peak summer for me, largely due to my association of it with the Texas heat I was enduring when I first heard Voodoo, but also because of how perfectly the drums ooze along with D'Angelo's sighs and cries. “Spanish Joint” falls on the bright and hot side of my earlier sensory evaluation. The song bounces through plumes of charcoal smoke and screened doors with ease and is sure to have everyone within earshot head-bobbing along. “Spanish Joint” is the open-toe shoe that is sure to fit your summer backyard BBQ, and if it isn't, then please don't invite me.

Kirby Kluth - @kirbykluth


Switchfoot – “Meant to Live”

Sony BMG

The pineapple is fresh off the grill, the jackfruit shredded and coated in sauce, and spirits are high. Suddenly, you hear it: the riff. Despite the arena rock energy of “Meant to Live’s” opening, vocalist Jon Foreman finds space between the larger-than-life instrumentation to softly tell of someone who feels as though the world is passing him by before building into a raucous, infectious plea of a chorus as he longs for something greater than merely drifting through life. Going into the bridge, Switchfoot briefly pulls the song towards a softer dynamic space as Foreman pleads for “more than the wars of our fathers.”

I take this song as a reminder that there’s so much work to do if we want to ensure we’re not fighting our parents’ wars and passing them down to future generations. It’s a call to action in the face of multiple genocides, civil rights being rapidly stripped away in America, and an election that seems as though it’s destined to make both of these issues worse no matter the outcome. I also take it as an invitation to remember that within the community that’s built and reinforced through the summer BBQ, we have managed to find part of the “so much more” that Foreman cries out for. The riff comes back. You get a second sandwich. After all, “we were meant to live.”

Noëlle Midnight - @noellemidnight


AC/DC - “Shot Down in Flames”

Leidseplein Presse B.V.

When in doubt, the Godfathers of Summer Barbecue Rock will never steer you wrong. You want something familiar and catchy when at a barbecue or party, especially in the summer. Something that casual music fans can latch on to for dear life and will get everyone to start tapping their feet uncontrollably. AC/DC checks off more boxes than an election form. From the chunky riffs, up-tempo music, and absolutely filthy guitar solos, they will have your party cooking with gasoline. “Highway to Hell” is the obvious choice here, but it’s incredibly too expected; that song has been played a kajillion plus 1 times to death. Instead, go with a song from the same album, “Shot Down in Flames,” it’s just as energetic and rowdy also, you still get that same jolt of electricity as “Highway to Hell,” but it feels light a slight flex by picking a deeper cut.

The good thing about AC/DC is that they have generational music, and Bon Scott’s raspy/high-pitched vocals pack a knockout punch that will scratch every itch in any generation. So fear not, kids today would be crushing hard seltzers all day under the scorching sun to this song. Say you’re with an older crowd, though, it’s an instant light bulb moment for them to reminisce about listening to them for the first time or hearing about how AC/DC was their soundtrack for all the youthful shenanigans they got into. Were your Mee Maw and Pop Pop rebels back in the day? Who knows? Let’s find out by putting on “Shot Down in Flames” to see what happens.

David Williams - @davidmwill89


Chicago – “Saturday in the Park”

Columbia Records

Few records are worthy of making the cut for a summer BBQ playlist, but anything by Chicago is a non-negotiable add. Maybe my love for the band is driven by nostalgia or maybe it’s my unabashed love of wearing socks with my Birks. Either way, “Saturday in the Park” is a guaranteed success for the backyard bash you’re planning. Robert Lamm and Peter Cetera’s smooth harmonies, backed by chipper drums and warm brass, are impossibly catchy - before you know it, the whole party will be singing along: “Saturday in the park / I think it was the Fourth of July.” Hot dogs sizzle on the grill, the Miller Lites in the cooler are icy cold, and your new neighbors Tom and Barb just arrived with potato salad in tow. You’re wearing the “Kiss the Chef” apron that your brother-in-law gifted you for Christmas (you pretended to hate it, but secretly, you’ve been dying to bust that bad boy out). Like Robert said, it’s “a real celebration, waiting for us all.” Cheers!

Britta Joseph - @brittajoes


Petey – “I Tried to Draw a Straight Line”

Terrible

From his raspy voice to his NASCAR enthusiast aesthetic, Petey feels like he belongs at a barbecue with a Miller Lite in a koozie. You look at his vintage tees and beaten-up hats and can instantly smell the charcoal lingering. While all of his 2023 album, USA, is ideal for flipping hot dogs, “I Tried to Draw a Straight Line” is the quintessential grilling song. On the surface, it’s charming background music with a dancey beat to which people nod their heads without even noticing. The lyrics are a stream of consciousness you can easily hear being spoken over the sound of sizzling beef. “Yeah, I’ve been kind of angry since the Kings lost to the Lakers in the Western Conference Finals.” These seemingly banal thoughts are interrupted by moments of sheer panic. “Why you looking at me like that? Are you wishing that I was dead? Am I making you feel uncool? Is it something that I said?” Later, he spirals as he goes from talking about tricks he learned in his childhood to wondering whether he deserves to one day be a parent. This is a millennial barbeque at its finest: Nathan’s Ballpark Franks, Boca Burgers, and existential crises. If no one has volunteered yet, I’ll bring some tomato salad. 

Lindsay Fickas - @lindsayfickas


The Menzingers – “Bad Catholics”

Epitaph Records

It could be the religious background, the Irish heritage, growing up as a suburban white kid raised on rock and roll, or my penchant for consuming more alcohol than I should. Whatever the reason, The Menzingers are a band that have resonated with me deeply ever since my best friend showed me their song “Midwestern States” back in our early college days. Not only are they one of the best millennial American rock bands of our time, but there is something about their sound and identity that bleeds classic rock vibes, Americana, drinking too much, hanging out with your buds, and causing trouble. Given those qualifications, it would not be out-of-place to hear one of their more sunny, easy-going tracks blaring out of a waterproof speaker in a millennial dude’s backyard somewhere in Anytown, USA on a sweltering summer day. While just about any track off their 2017 record After the Party could fit the bill, “Bad Catholics” has been on my summer playlists since it first graced my ears. The straightforward riffs, steady pre-chorus, and sunny, danceable hooks create the best environment for cracking open a cold one in a beach chair that’s one light breeze away from breaking in half. Lyrics describing a church picnic and children running around with “orange soda mustaches” further elevate the spirit of the season in this banger that, once you hear it, is sure to make its way onto your own BBQ playlists this summer. 

Ciara Rhiannon - @rhiannon_comma


MJ Lenderman – “You Have Bought Yourself A Boat”

Dear Life Records

“It's plain to me to see / You have bought yourself a boat.” Never before in the history of music have the stakes of an artist’s entire vibe been captured so accurately and so succinctly with the opening line of a song. With a charming North Carolina drawl and plenty of breezy twang, MJ Lenderman has been a staple of my summertime playlists for a few years running now. In fact, my love affair with Lenderman’s particular style of southern slacker rock ignited on July 4th of 2022 as I kept Boat Songs on a constant rotation throughout my entire four-day weekend while hanging on the Oregon Coast with my family. I came out the other side half hungover, buzzed on burgers, and with a newfound zeal for all things MJ. In the time since then, my adoration for his personable, everyman aura has only grown, amplified with each subsequent single and live album. While you might have thought I’d go with a more grill-based MJ song, the bright, summertime breeze of “You Have Bought Yourself A Boat” feels like the ultimate summation of feel-good grillin’. I’ll see y’all at the cookout.

Taylor Grimes - @GeorgeTaylorG


Funkadelic – “Can You Get To That”

Westbound

When I started to brainstorm a perfect BBQ song for this prompt, my shortlist borrowed heavily from my dad’s music library (he’s the one who got me into The Hold Steady and Wilco and Steely Dan). But only one of those songs was one that my grill-enthusiast father once asked me to play at his funeral. That’s right, when my dad no longer has a life (or rather, when life no longer has him), he wants to go out to the bluesy psych rock grooves and shimmering harmonies of Funkadelic’s “Can You Get To That” (Bonus points if you also add Sleigh Bells’ “Rill Rill,” a track that brilliantly interpolates Fubkadelic’s timeless melody into  futuristic electropop Americana.) This backstory might seem morbid, but at this point, I’m used to having the kind of parents who have no qualms about dropping their funeral requests into casual conversation. We only have so much time on this earth, so why not use it to grill some burgers? While you’re at it, why not throw on all of Maggot Brain in its mind-bending entirety?

Grace Robins-Somerville - @grace_roso