The Faux 8 Diaries

Have you ever seen that video of a guy dancing alone at a music festival? It’s broad daylight in a wide-open field. Some people sit scattered around on blankets, but there he stands, dancing all alone, waving his arms like a wacky waving inflatable arm flailing tube man, grooving out in the truest sense of the word. Eventually, another guy wanders over and starts busting out his funkiest moves, and all of a sudden, this shirtless dude who was standing off by himself is now dancing with someone. Then another person joins in, and three is a crowd. Shortly after that, another couple of people come up, then a group of three. Soon, the mass is growing too fast to count. By the end of the video, people are running towards the crowd, eager to join the actively expanding dance floor. That’s what Fauxchella feels like.

For the uninitiated, Faux (fka Fauxchella) is a DIY/emo/punk music festival in Bowling Green, Ohio, organized by the now-defunct house venue The Summit Shack. While the first two incarnations were hosted at The Shack, all of the following Fauxchellas (plus a few seasonal offshoots) have taken place at Howard’s Club H, a 200-cap dive bar with two stages, $3 PBRs, and $2 shots. Hell yeah. Previous iterations of the fest have included the likes of Origami Angel, Ben Quad, saturdays at your place, Michael Cera Palin, and so many goddamn more. I’m not being hyperbolic at all when I say that it’s basically heaven on earth if you like fast music and guitar tapping. 

If you’re interested in learning more about the history of Fauxchella and The Summit Shack, a couple of years ago, I conducted a long-form interview with Conor Alan, which serves as a retrospective of the festival in all its iterations. There’s also a big recap I did on Fauxchella VI, complete with lots of video footage of different sets.

This June, I made the 12-hour drive up to Bowling Green for Faux 8, because this was one I could not miss. First and foremost, this was set to be the last Fauxchella at Howard’s, given that the fest has long outgrown the confines of the dive bar’s charming sticker-covered walls. Musically, I was excited to catch sets from old faves like Equipment, Summerbruise, and Kerosene Heights. There were also many bands on this year’s lineup I was ecstatic to catch for the first time, like Waving, 95COROLLA, Fend, red sun, and Keep for Cheap. On top of all this, the lineup for day two felt like a miniature sequel to Liberation Weekend, featuring the likes of Pretty Bitter, Ekko Astral, and Home Is Where

Home Is Where

Since I just published a big write-up on Liberation Weekend, I wanted to do something different for Faux and not just go through the lineup band by band. Swim was also tabling the event, slinging shirts, totes, lighters, and cool little zines, so I knew I’d be too busy to realistically catch every set. Instead, I brought my trusty digi cam and tried my best to snap pics of every set and merch spread, plus some cool portraits of band members. Esteemed members of the Swim Team, Josh Ejnes and Ben Parker, were also on-site, so you’ll find their thoughts on each day below, plus some other surprises. 

Thanks to Conor, Ellie, Jake, Mike, Sergei, Trey, Nick, Jacob, and all the people who make it possible to put an event like this together. It truly takes a village, and it’s been an absolute blessing to join in and be a part of it. Faux forever. 


Faux[DACTED]

Before we get any further into this article, we should address the name of the festival. While the previous seven iterations of the fest were named “Fauxchella,” this year’s iteration was unceremoniously re-titled “FAUX 8.” That’s because, back in April, The Summit Shack received a cease and desist from AEG, the second-largest ticketing company in the world, and, notably, the purveyors of the Coachella music festival. Despite the fact that Coachella is the name of a place, despite the fact that the fest is named after a joke from Workaholics, and despite the fact that “Fauxchella” is a 200-person music festival happening halfway across the country at a college town dive bar in Ohio, AEG still felt the need to sic the lawyers on ‘em. 

The Crowd for FinalBossFight!

In the end, Faux 8 played out exactly like any other Fauxchella would, and nothing sizable changed aside from a knowing gap in the posters that were amended to read “FAUX       8” with a big blank spot. A good handful of the bands poked fun at this from the stage between songs, calling attention to how absurd it is that the people running the $600-a-head Influencer Music Festival were getting litigious and using intimidation tactics on a defunct DIY venue. While I’m glad Faux continued unabated, to me, this just feels emblematic of the way that these giant companies will crush, mangle, and intimidate anyone they can if it means a few extra dollars. The fact that they seemed to take so much glee in threatening a zero-profit emo festival, it’s no wonder why live music is in such a bad spot. Fuck you and your $15 beers. 

Alright, that's enough preamble, let's get into it. 


Josh & Ben on Faux 8: Day One

In all honesty, my specific memories of Faux 8 are few and far between. Edibles are partially responsible for this, but a bigger factor is that—at least for me—enjoyment of an event like Faux comes from surrendering to the experience as a whole rather than latching on to any particular moment. When I try to file things away in my brain for later, I often miss other stuff that’s happening right in front of me, so I prefer instead to just let everything wash over me. One benefit of this approach is that when I do remember something distinct, it means a little more; the imprint a result of organic impact rather than personal diligence. 

The thing that stuck with me the most throughout the first day of Faux 8 was how good the sound was; it kind of didn’t make any sense. Over the two days of the festival, more than 40 bands played half-hour sets in rapid succession, a schedule that doesn’t accommodate typical load-ins or soundchecks. On paper, this should be a recipe for frequent technical issues and a poor mix, but everything sounded great. I’m not even grading on a curve here because of the circumstances; the average Faux set sounds better than what you’d expect to hear at your local venue’s regular shows. I think that this high-quality sound production is an underappreciated element of what makes Faux sets so special. Shout out to Jake Pachasa and Mike Seymour, absolute killers on the boards. 

Boyclothes

There are so many bands out there that I mean to listen to but don’t. I’ll see a band come across my feed, I’ll pull up Tidal to check them out, and then bang, the doorbell rings or my dog needs to go to the bathroom. By the time I come back to the computer, I've forgotten what I was doing, and suddenly I’m listening to the Menzingers for the thousandth time. FinalBossFight! were a frequent victim of this pattern for me; they just kept falling through the cracks. Watching their set on day one of Faux, I felt like an absolute fool for not checking them out sooner; they were so good and 100% in my wheelhouse. A few songs in, I was thinking about how their stripped-down approach to pop-punk kind of reminded me of Joyce Manor, a thought that was immediately followed by their killer cover of “Five Beer Plan.” It was very serendipitous. FBF! are now a band that will forever be in my regular listening rotation, thank you Faux for the introduction.

Another day one highlight for me was Bottom Bracket, a Chicago band I’d listened to a few times but had never managed to catch live. Their set was a way more arresting performance than I was expecting. I can't fathom how someone can play guitar like that and sing so well at the same time. Their set was at 7 pm, which is where I found myself starting to feel the fatigue of the day, but they snapped me right out of it. Good bands I enjoy; great bands send a jolt through me, and Bottom Bracket firmly sit in the latter camp—very cool stuff. 

One of the things I was most looking forward to at the fest was Carly Cosgrove’s performance. This was my first time seeing the band since the release of The Cleanest of Houses Are Empty, and I’ve so badly wanted to yell “You, old, dog, you old dog, you, old, dog, you old dog, you, you old dog, you old dog, you!” in a room full of people since first hearing the record. I finally got to do it at Faux, and it was just as magical as I imagined. Tough to beat seeing a band with a no-skip discography live—great way to cap off the night.
– Josh Ejnes

I am foolishly the kind of person who sees the opportunity to spend a total of 24 hours inside a small dive bar in Ohio and thinks, “How can I spend as much of my time as possible there without leaving?” On day one, I am proud to say I left only once, and that was during the much-earned hour-long break built into the schedule. Even then, I only went next door to a little deli for a chicken sandwich and some waffle fries that were better than they needed to be.  

The real reason I wanted to spend so much time at Faux was not just because of the incredible line-up of bands and absurdly cheap drink prices, but because Faux 8, much like all years prior, is really built on such a small and niche community that unites yearly to dance and drink $3 beers together. Nothing from the day stands out more to me than going around and seeing people from the internet who I have been aware of for a long time and was finally able to meet. 

There is also something really special about attending a festival and being able to get in a moshpit with the same people that you paid money to see. The band members are all running around and taking time to see the sets. It is very rare anymore that you go to a major show and get to actually talk to the folks who are the show. It is one of the things that makes Faux feel like a giant DIY family reunion. 

Bee’s Faux Bucket Hat

There are two bands that I want to take time to talk about, and the first is Later Gator. The Indianapolis emo outfit delivered an incredible side-stage set, despite being in a challenging position, immediately following Topiary Creatures and preceding Bottom Bracket. I was at the first-ever Later Gator show, and to have seen them grow from what they were to a band that can fill the room for a Faux set is incredible. Guitarist Jonathan Bayless and his ability to wield both a guitar and trumpet at the same time is nothing short of wizardry. There were two different covers that the band performed: one was “Higher” by Creed, and the other was a spontaneous, improvised cover of “We Are Young” by fun. that materialized after Bayless broke a string. This band kept the room moving, and it was incredible to see. 

The other band I need to mention is Strelitzia, the Arizona-based math rock group who put on what had to be one of the most special performances of the entire Faux weekend. The band rarely gets out of their home state, let alone all the way to the Midwest, so getting to see them come out and play songs off their 2024 album Winter was nothing short of astounding. I sat there at the front, thrashing around and sobbing the entire set. All I can truly say is if you have the opportunity to see this band, take it, because they are better than anybody could ever tell you.
– Ben Parker


Merch Mayhem

Ever since my first Fauxchella six years ago, I’ve viewed merch as an essential part of this festival’s identity. Bands travel from all over for this fest, many already on tours routed to or from Bowling Green just for Faux. This means that almost every band has merch with them, and at this scale, you’ll never know what you’re gonna get. Free stickers? You bet your ass. Hooters logo rips? Sure, why not. Crocheted alligators? Obviously

Tucked in the back corner of Howard’s main room, spread across two pool tables and half a dozen other surfaces, you will find a packed corner of all the best emo finery you could want. Most bands had shirts and stickers, some of which were custom-made just for this fest. Others offered vinyl records, CDs, tapes, lighters, tapestries, friendship bracelets, and toothbrushes. Several of the bands provided free earplugs, Narcan, drug test kits, Plan B, leftist literature, and wallet-sized cards about how to talk to ICE, as well as other harm-reduction supplies. It was impressive to see all these merch spreads and the infinite ways that artists create beyond the music you hear on the record. Here is a gallery of merch spreads, all photos taken with permission from the bands.
– Taylor Grimes


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Caro’s Warped Tour Report: Day One

Hi Taylor, Josh, and Ben! It’s Caro, and I am on the ground and reporting not-live from that national embarrassment happening in D.C. You know, the first stop of the 30th Anniversary of the Vans Warped Tour. 

The first thing I did was follow a guy smoking a cigarette and wearing a Memphis May Fire hoodie because I thought he would know where the gates were. He didn’t. But, thanks to my bloodhound navigational skills and a giant sign that said “ENTRANCE HERE,” I found the doors. When I approached the security check, they were blasting “Can We Just Get High?” by Carpool. Honestly, I thought I was imagining it for a second, like a desert mirage, heat psychosis already setting in, but it was real and it rocked. It was finally time to take my first steps into the very big parking lot where this was all going down and start paying $18 per tall boy White Claw all weekend. 

The day started with D.C.’s own Origami Angel performing in the first hour slot on one of the main stages to a giant crowd. They played a fuck-this-shit-up version of “Dirty Mirror Selfie” and a “Love Sosa”-infused “Doctor Whomst”. I want to make it clear that people went off for our hometown heroes.

Photo by @realkayls

Publicly, I wrote an article last year about the ascent of saturdays at your place as one of the pillars of contemporary emo — you should read it — so I felt pretty clever when they were announced for Warped Tour. Privately, I’ve had a list on my phone for the past few years called “bands that deserve to have Warped Tour re-invented so they can play in a parking lot at 2 pm,” and saturdays has been on that list since 2023. Hang my byline in the rafters because guess where I was standing at 2:35 pm. Also, why did the founder of Emo Nite walk by me?

saturdays were playing on one of the smaller stages, not the one sponsored by Ghost Energy, not the one sponsored by Beatbox, not the one sponsored by Vans, and not the other one sponsored by Vans. This corner of the festival hosted smaller artists with looser genre affiliations (think local bands like Angel Du$t or legends like Fishbone) and rowdier crowds. In this slice of paradise, saturdays kept the audience locked in through fast jams like their Blink-182-ish “pourover” and the more anthemic songs like “it’s always cloudy in kalamazoo.” The founder of Emo Nite walked by me again. When the band launched into their Certified Emo Classic, “tarot cards,” the crowd reacted accordingly, launching crowdsurfers towards the stage

After saturdays, I walked over to the Vans Left Foot Stage to scope out the crowd and watch Chiodos. Taylor, Josh, and Ben, I am here to say that there were fewer Elder Emo shirts than you would think. I’m assuming that you picture everyone here wearing something like that, but honestly, of the annoying apparel, it’s pretty evenly divided between Elder Emo shirts, Make America Emo Again hats, and It Was Never a Phase patches, but overall, it just wasn’t a lot of people. Everyone else was wearing band shirts or getting a sunburn in tank tops. Also, Chiodos ruled.

Historically, the Vans Warped compilation CD has never cost more than $5, and Smartpunk collaborated with the festival to keep this tradition alive. They also worked with Warped to do a series of less-formal sets under a tent in the middle of an alley of vendors. On Saturday, they showcased local bands like American Television and The Dreaded Laramie, as well as the cannonball-ish local band Combat. Many reading this may remember Combat’s bombastic Faux performance last year, so imagine that, but at literal Warped Tour. They rocked the fuck out, took requests from audience members like Ryland Heagy and Esden Stafne, and started a thrashing moshpit with passerbys from the Sublime and Cartel crowds. 

Photo by Combat

I want to end with this begrudging Day 1 thought: I know it’s easy to be dismissive of the Warped Tour revival. Like I know the jokes write themselves and it’s easy to pick apart, but believe me, your field reporter, the crowd was consistently fucking hyped. For the most part, everyone here paid a lot of money to hear good ass music and good ass music is what they found. Minus Ice Nine Kills.
– Caro Alt


Josh & Ben on Faux 8: Day Two

Trading card trading floor

Went into day two of Faux more tired than I would have liked. I bought a Deal or No Deal DVD game for the trip, sort of as a gag, but my friends and I actually ended up getting quite addicted to it, and our sleep suffered as a result; despite this, I was able to power through and watch some great sets. An earlier-in-the-day favorite of mine was Palette Knife, a late addition to the fest, who had the side stage absolutely rocking. Felt similarly about them as I did Bottom Bracket: how can you play like that and sing like that simultaneously? Doesn’t feel like it should be possible. “Jelly Boi” is one of my favorite emo songs, and I loved hearing it live. Definitely going to be catching Palette Knife next time they’re in Chicago. 

Pretty Bitter’s set at Faux 7 was one of the best of the weekend, so I was super stoked to see that they were on the lineup again for Faux 8. I felt like last year the band didn’t fully get the hype they deserved (partially due to a tough mid day timeslot), so I was really happy to see so many people dancing and singing along as they played this year; it seems like they’re a band whose fanbase is growing exponentially, which I couldn’t be happier to see. Through their set, the band’s new stuff mixed in seamlessly with the old, culminating with an all-out performance of the incredibly hooky “The Damn Thing is Cursed,” which brought the house down. Everyone in Pretty Bitter is a great performer, but at Faux 8, I found myself particularly drawn to their drummer, who was smashing those things and doing all sorts of stick spins and tricks—rockstar stuff, love to see it. 

Pretty Bitter, Pretty much killin’ it

This brings us to my favorite set of the festival: Fend. I don’t think I’d even heard of Fend heading into Faux, and in all honesty, I had intended to skip their set to catch some fresh air before Summerbruise played. As I started to walk by the side stage, the band’s sound pulled me in like a tractor beam; they were unlike anyone else at Faux. I’ve been listening to their record, Disc, pretty much continuously since I got home, I just can’t get over their vocal melodies. Honestly, I wish I had more specific things to say here, but their set put me into a stupor of sorts; my reaction was visceral in a way I struggle to describe. I guess it was kind of like the first time I had Nerds Gummy Clusters and my brain was firing off in ways it hadn’t in years, the result of elements I’m familiar with being put together in a combination I can’t effectively deconstruct. They just sounded awesome. Listen to this band. 

The last day two act that I want to shout out is Leisure Hour, who closed things out on the festival’s side stage. It feels like Leisure Hour have been touring nonstop lately, and their reps on the road are paying off. The band was already great when I first saw them in Chicago last October, but since then, it seems they’ve leveled up even further. The crowd reaction during their closer “jenny” is probably the most hype I saw people get all night, they absolutely owned the space.
– Josh Ejnes

Smash is still a Faux tradition

Much like my peers, I went into day two with little to no sleep. I also overheated on the way in because my friend and I chose to walk the 20 minutes to Faux from the hotel. This was also one of the few times during any fest that I was willing to miss any of the sets, as I was down the road from Howard’s with many Faux attendees for the No King’s Day protest. It was powerful to be there with friends and band members as we all chanted and felt the spirit of protest. It was beautiful, as many Bowling Green locals were out and the streets were lined. I am certain that, of all the things that happened during the weekend, this had to be the most important.

Upon arriving at the festival, I chose to spend my day wandering around and taking time to meet people while passively viewing most of the sets. You kind of hit this realization that you are surrounded by people you won’t see for at least a year, and all you want to do is bask in that community. I took the time to meet the people I was terrified of, such as Mel Bleker from Pretty Bitter, with whom I have developed a friendship over the years on Twitter due to the nature of us both being poets. It led to a beautiful and surreal moment where we were both able to complement each other’s writing and connect as humans. I also got to go with my friend, who had never seen Summerbruise, over to their merch table and talk to Mike, who called me the “Michael Jordan of attending Summerbruise shows.” Being in moshpits and always having a group conversation to walk into is exactly what Faux is about. 

Keep for Cheap

There were many sets from Day Two that I loved, and the first I wanted to touch on is Echo. This is a fascinating band as it is essentially just Summebruise flipped around with the drummer, Stanli, taking over vocals and leading the band. They began with a magical cover of “Shooting Stars” by B.o.B. This stood out to me because I had spent the time walking into the fest joking about the concept of a band playing this song on Twitter. The rest of the set was filled with some fun-filled, ass-throwing emo music that had the kids moving early in the morning, as it was many of the protest group’s first set. 

Another one of the sets I wanted to highlight is Tiny Voices. This set was always going to be different as their vocalist was unable to make the fest, and Luke Ferkovich (Kule, Endswell) was filling in on the mic. The crowd for this set was absolutely raucous and filled the main stage room. I was right at the front, and early on, I got forced onto the stage from the crowd pushing forward, and not once was I able to get off. It is a testament to this band that even without their vocalist, they were able to put on one hell of a show. Half of the vocals were provided by the crowd, as a beautiful cacophony of mic grabs took place repeatedly throughout the entire set. At one point, Luke even went into the crowd and got the whole room moving. It was the kind of set that jumpstarts a band’s momentum, à la Combat at Faux 7.

Jesus was in attendance

The pinnacle of the day for me was getting to see Summerbruise for the 12th time. They are a truly special Indiana band and one of the few things I feel pride for in my home state. This was a strong four-piece Summerbruise lineup, which couldn’t be a full-band set as Mitch Gulish was at Warped Tour playing with saturdays at your place. Summerbruise played all of the hits, and the first moment that stuck out was during “Dead Daddog 20/20” when the entire crowd overpowered vocalist Mike Newman, who broke down into tears on stage. It was a beautiful moment that was well-deserved by a band that has been a mainstay in the Faux lineup over the years. Outside of Equipment, Summerbruise is the Faux band. This group inspires community and supports each other in a way that not many others do. 

Summerbruise was also able to debut their recently released track “Never Bothered,” which really took off at the bridge as around six different band members rushed on stage to grab the mic for backup vocals through the end of the song. The set concluded as many Summerbruise sets do, with Mike introducing “Bury Me at Penn Station” as a song for the community and the people who make these shows worth it (despite it being about his wife). However, this performance was a little different, as Frederick Loeb of Dear Maryanne came onto stage to play guitar, allowing Mike to spend the end of the set in the crowd, connecting with people in a way he usually can’t due to his dual role as a guitarist and singer. Beautiful set from a fantastic band.
– Ben Parker

Summerbruise


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Caro’s Warped Tour Report: Day 2

Hi Taylor, Josh, and Ben! I respawned in Parking Lot 6 and am once again live from the Bam Margera Look-Alike Convention. The Hot Topic Conference on Reviving Wallet Chains. The Consortium of People Who Loved Illegally Drinking the Original Four Loko. Vans Warped Tour Day 2. And I am here to see motherfucking Carpool. This bit was sponsored by Ghost Energy. #DRINKGHOST

Warped Tour has an infamous no crowdsurfing rule. Obviously, it’s a joke rule that was historically ignored, but that didn’t stop Kevin Lyman and Co. from putting up the old “you mosh, you crowd surf, you get hurt, we get sued, no more Warped Tour" signs. What they didn’t have a sign against was bands jumping into the crowd. Enter Carpool.

Carpool - Photo by Alec Pugliese

Carpool ripped through heaters like “Come Thru Cool,” “I Hate Music,” and “Thom Yorke New City” (thank you again for playing that), but everything came to a boiling point for “The Salty Song” when Stoph Colasanto jumped the barricade to join the crowd, turning the pit into a party. It has long been the belief of this site that Carpool fucking rocks, but this was the pinnacle so far. The only way for Rochester’s rowdiest crew to go is up. (And if you haven’t checked out Pretty Rude’s new album — fix that.)

Now, Taylor, Josh, and Ben, I don’t think anyone I’ve ever bought old band merch off of has ever performed on a festival main stage, but then Eric Egan walked onto the Ghost stage, so I guess I can cross that one off. I know a lot of y’all have watched Heart Attack Man’s rise and might have even caught them at Faux last year, but did you know they also played in 2018 pre-Fake Blood? It’s all pretty cool and even cooler to see a lot of people came to Warped explicitly for Heart Attack Man. 

God bless the state of Oklahoma. That’s all I can think when Cliffdiver starts up. I’ve seen them a lot over the years, but every time I catch them, I can’t help but get completely lost in their positivity and zest for life, despite it all. Like a couple of bands this weekend, Cliffdiver discussed how monumental it felt to be performing at Warped, and it genuinely did feel like an event. After all, how could you not feel important and joyous when Cliffdiver is playing “goin’ for the garbage plate”?

Cliffdiver - Photo by Caitlyn McGonigal

Between Bri Wright’s stage banter and Joey Duffy’s FUCK ICE shirt, Cliffdiver spent a lot of time addressing the political state of things. If you missed the news, Trump held a military parade for his birthday in the city, flooding D.C. with violent dipshits and that tension made its way over to the Festival Grounds of RFK Stadium. All weekend, artists addressed the state of everything: The Wonder Years spoke about trans youth, ICE, and Palestine while Dan Campbell wore a FREE GAZA shirt, Big Ass Truck gave a speech about what they hate, Meredith Hurley from Millionaires wore a Protect Trans Folks shirt, and Buddy Nielsen from Senses Fail addressed the history of sexual assault this festival festered and used his time to advocate for Palestine. This doesn’t even include all the other artists, such as Origami Angel, Scene Queen, Pennywise, Motion City Soundtrack, The Suicide Machines, Red Jumpsuit Apparatus, Magnolia Park, Combat, sace6, and Fever333, and MORE who also dedicated time in their sets to using their voices to advocate for change. This also isn’t even including all of the political conversation happening in the crowds, which largely expressed similar sentiments to these bands and responded with support. 

The MVPs of the whole weekend are easily Leisure Hour, who played Fauxchella Saturday night and dipped down to D.C. to play the Smartpunk tent on Sunday evening. Not to mention that their load-in at Warped Tour was literally through the crowd since they weren’t playing a formal stage. Rock and fucking roll. And I concur with Josh, go listen to “jenny.”

Rain had threatened the entire weekend, and the storm was finally unleashed as Kerosene Heights was taking the stage after their drive from Bowling Green. That didn’t stop anyone from partying; in fact, it got everyone even more excited. I was stopped several times through the set by people passing by to ask who they were, all to which I replied, yelling, “KEROSENE HEIGHTS FROM ASHEVILLE.” It was just so fun. It’s kind of what this is all about, you know?

Kerosene Heights - Photo by Alec Pugliese

My final thoughts? I think there’s a temptation to get into an us (very cool music listeners) vs them (nostalgia-obsessed poser) mentality. Because yes, the whole Elder Emo thing is grating, but this was also the first music thing I’ve been to where someone was wearing a Pg. 99 shirt — which is objectively some of the most authentically Elder Emo you can get. My point is that on the ground, it didn’t matter; we were all already there, so there was nothing left to do but have fun. I’m immensely proud of all the new bands that got spots to play the festival and I would be lying if I said I didn’t love seeing the old shit too. I literally almost waited in line to meet Levi Benton from Miss May I.
– Caro Alt


Taylor’s Portraits

Grabbing portraits of bands was something I wanted to do at Liberation Weekend, but I never quite worked up the courage to commit to fully. Because I knew the bands and the space better at Faux, I was much less shy about asking band members for a quick picture whenever the opportunity presented itself. Most of the time, I was operating on a simple “one and done” philosophy, snapping one pic and saying “cute” or “sick” and thanking the band. I’m incredibly proud of how some of these came out, and I hope I can continue to take many more pictures of band members in this capacity.

If you haven’t seen it, we've just launched a Photography wing of this website, featuring photo recaps of concerts. I plan on doing a Faux 8 photo recap at a later date, so more of these to come.


Faux 8: Honorary Day 3

While Faux 8 was only a two-day fest, a daytime Sunday show at The Swarmyard, a local BG DIY institution, acted as an unofficial continuation of the festivities. The lineup consisted of Decatur, Illinois folk rocker Marble Teeth (who we profiled earlier this year) and Equipment. When I showed up at The Swarmyard a little before doors, a group was forming across the street already a few dozen strong. By the time they started letting people in, it was clear the basement would not fit everyone comfortably or safely. Instead, everyone poured back out into the street and assembled at the front of the house for two front porch acoustic sets. 

Marble Teeth beguiled with his talky acousti-folk setup, playing guitar, harmonica, and CRT TV. At the beginning of each track, Caleb Jefson would select a song off a custom-made DVD menu, which would provide the beat as he sang and played guitar. He wove through songs off his early LPs Cars and Park, 2023’s top 10 times i’ve cried, as well as some new material that Jefson teased as part of an EP coming out on July 4th. 

Marble Teeth

After Marble Teeth’s set, Nick Zander took the mantle of the front porch for an all-request Equipment set. Occasionally joined by Penny and Ellie, the group rocked through a one-of-a-kind three-hour set, playing everything from embarrassing cuts off their 2015 demo to the then-just-a-few-days-old “espresso lemonade.” It was a staggering thing to take in deep cuts from every era of this band as Zander shredded and sang with Springsteen-like endurance. The crowd sang along whenever words were forgotten, and Zander was more than happy to provide the crowd with fun backstory and lore about nearly every track. 

The afternoon set was a beautiful and unique experience that will sadly act as the last from the Swarmyard, as the venue was forced to shut down following this show. Much like the AEG C&D, this feels like an overreaction and overreach; the last drops of life being squeezed out of a passionate group of people putting on shows purely out of love. That said, if I know anything about Jacob and Beautiful Rat Records, it’s that this energy will not go away, merely be diverted to other projects. Plus, if there’s any way to close up your house venue, it’s hard to beat a massive, mega four-hour show headlined by hometown heroes like Equipment.
– Taylor Grimes

Equipment


Some Closing Thoughts

Six years ago, I attended my first Fauxchella because a few bands I liked were performing. I figured it was worth the 90-minute drive down from Detroit to see Origami Angel, Stars Hollow, and Charmer. It turns out that “worth it” doesn’t even begin to capture the experience. I came away from Fauxchella III more inspired and enthused about music than I’d ever been in my life. As I sat eating Rally’s on the hood of my car after the gig, I found myself in absolute awe at the type of communal experience that was possible outside the confines of a traditional music festival experience. To me, this realization goes part and parcel with my Pacific Northwestern ass experiencing authentic Midwest DIY culture for the first time, amazed that people could throw shows out of their living room or basement, not to mention the ability to support and interact with bands directly, as opposed to strictly over a merch table (if at all). 

After attending Fauxchella III, I came back to Bowling Green for DIY Prom, then (on two separate occasions) made a 12-hour drive up from North Carolina just for Fauxchella. It wasn’t lost on me how silly it was to travel so far and take time off work for a festival happening in a college town outside of Toledo, but the lineups were too specific and too tailored to my tastes. It was like someone took my last.fm charts and turned them into a festival lineup. How could I miss that?

This year at Faux 8, I spoke with a couple who had traveled up from Mexico specifically for this festival. I was pretty amazed and said, “You guys probably traveled further than anyone here.” These were words I wound up eating mere hours later when I was talking to another group who had traveled from Alaska for Faux 8. 

On the second day of the festival, I found myself out back chatting with members of Keep For Cheap and Fend when Autumn Vagle said, “Minnesota needs something like this,” referring to Fauxchella’s tight-knit sense of community and impressive artistic draw. Similarly, at one point in the night, I was catching up with Jael Holzman, frontwoman of Ekko Astral and one of the people who spearheaded Liberation Weekend. She cited Fauxchella directly as an inspiration for how a festival like this can and should run, saying that watching Faux over the years was proof of concept that they could do something similar in DC. The result of that inspiration was an incredible festival that raised nearly $40k for the trans rights advocacy collective Gender Liberation Movement. That’s inspiration in action.

With next year’s venue still an unknown, any future Faux will look undeniably different. There will be no more Fauxchella as we’ve known it, but hopefully, there will be Fauxchellas sprouting up everywhere as people take this energy and inspiration back to their home scenes. Fauxchella itself isn’t special. It’s not the venue, the lineup, or even the people running it; what makes Fauxchella special is the community. It’s all these people coming together for two days of music and friendship and $3 beers. What makes Fauxchella special is you.

It feels poetic that Conor Alan, the person organizing most everything related to Fauxchella and the Summit Shack, had a baby on the literal day before Faux 8. As Conor steps into the role of father, it feels as if his other baby is now finally old enough to go off and live on its own. The format of this festival is something that can (and should) be replicated in every music scene across the country. And hey, maybe the first version is just a bunch of local bands and comedians performing in a garage, but keep at it, and who knows how big it could become? Who knows how many people will travel from other states and countries to be a part of your scene? What I do know is that you won’t find out until you start.

Fauxchella, as it has existed for the last near-decade, is gone, but in its place will come another Fauxchella in a different place run by the same people. Then another Faux-like festival with a different name, run by a completely different group of people. Then maybe even one in your hometown. Faux is more than just a music festival; it’s an idea, and ideas can be replicated, shared, and built upon. This is yours now. 

Fauxchella Forever ∞

Smut – Tomorrow Comes Crashing | Album Review

Bayonet Records

Look, Smut kick ass, plain and simple. Tomorrow Comes Crashing is the band’s third studio album, which puts the Chicago-based quintet back into the muck, returning to the sludgy sound of their debut. It’s a type of album where, when I hear the songs, I get a feeling that the band knows exactly who they are at this point and are firing on all cylinders toward that actualization. The group recaptures some of their original DIY aesthetics while also incorporating new tricks they’ve learned along the way.

Smut’s previous record, How the Light Felt, sifted through the intricacies of 1990s dream pop and alt-rock, with more of the songs erring on the dreamy side of things. They smoothed out the rough edges found on their debut for an enjoyable second entry in their catalog–it was as if The Sundays had a lost album that was discovered in an abandoned storage unit and finally made its way onto streaming services.

Tomorrow Comes Crashing has similar elements to their previous records but now includes monstrous eruptions of distorted rock that bring the band to an apex of their sound. Vocalist Tay Roebuck, guitarists Andie Min and Sam Ruschman, bassist John Steiner, and drummer Aidan O’Connor tap into the sonic influences of their predecessors to create 34 minutes of pure rock ecstasy. The first step to achieving this sound was to enlist Aron Kobayashi Ritch as the production assistant, who turned the volume up to max power, giving the songs enough electricity to make Ben Franklin blush. Ritch has been on a hot streak of his own this year, with credits on the recent albums from Momma, Bedridden, and Been Stellar.

The single, “Syd Sweeney,” is something I could easily imagine on a 90s episode of Beavis and Butthead with them shaking and gyrating on their couch while watching the music video in between calling each other “fart knockers.” The song has all the ingredients of a certified banger, from the fuzzed-out 90s guitar riffs to the sludgy thrash metal outro, accompanied by some expert wailing from Roebuck. Not only can you throw your neck out headbanging to the track, but dig into the lyrics, and you’ll find a message about the objectification and stereotypes of women in art. A-list actress Sydney Sweeney is the namesake evoked as the shining example of being uber-talented in her own right yet still viewed solely as a sex object by some. For me, the sign of a talented band is when you can combine engaging music with lyrics that convey a distinct message that holds meaning for the artists.

What stands out to me throughout Tomorrow Comes Crashing is the voice of Tay Roebuck, who has an incredible range, accompanied by an unpredictable Tasmanian Devil-like energy. Her versatility is evident across the album; you can hear someone go through all the emotions, from a yell to a cry to a plethora of blood-curdling screams. On the 90s-inspired ballad with an edge, “Dead Air,” Roebuck’s voice rides the wave of crisp basslines with such effortless ease. A few tracks earlier, on the explosive, twisting metal riff opener “Godhead,” she belts a horror movie-like yowl that offers a thrilling, speaker-rattling moment. 

There’s a lot of fun to be had on the in-between songs, “Burn Like Violet” has guitar riffs you would hear in an 80s action movie scene. When I hit play on that song, I can just imagine a shredded Patrick Swayze in a bar fight throwing a jabroni onto a table, sending them through a bevy of glass mugs. “Spit” is a rough and rowdy song laced with chunky metal riffs and the perfect amount of fuzz. Each track also hosts an intoxicatingly catchy chorus that makes me just want to keep hitting repeat nonstop.

Ghosts (Cataclysm, Cover Me)” is the band tapping back into their dream pop sound, which, by the evidence of their second record, they are entirely at ease revisiting that brimming well of inspiration. The song has a moody, Gothic feel, accompanied by hauntingly executed echoes of Roebuck, making this a staple track that should be on everyone’s Halloween playlist this fall.

The realization of the trials and tribulations a band encounters while trying to live out their dreams is the focus of “Touch & Go.” The mid-album cut shows the things people don’t see beyond the shows, like flooded basements ruining your gear or inhaling burnt coffee in Anytown, USA, and having to manage your van breaking down while trying to make it to the next gig. The will it takes to persevere in your aspirations of becoming a full-time musician is harder than ever these days. Smut are well on the way to achieving their dreams by relentlessly evolving their sound to newer heights with each album cycle. The record itself is pure, unadulterated fun, but what separates this group from the pack are the detailed lyrical messages behind the kick-assery. While Tomorrow Comes Crashing feels expertly timed as a summer release with red-hot, sizzling guitar riffs and thunderous choruses, that depth beneath the surface is liable to keep drawing listeners back, rewarding them for many seasons to come.


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.

Dance Myth – The Shapes We Make | Album Review

Say-10 Records

When I was 19 years old, I first heard Listener’s album Wooden Heart Poems, and it made me realize that listening to music wasn’t good enough. Wooden Heart Poems was an invitation to write, and I needed to accept that invitation. I started writing my own songs and poems, often putting on Wooden Heart Poems as inspiration when I couldn’t find words on my own, borrowing lyrical motifs and stretching them until they resembled the shape of my own heart. Fifteen years later, I’m listening to Listener’s songwriter, Dan Smith, as he presents his new project, Dance Myth, and I’m struck once again as though I were still the 19-year-old finding er voice for the first time.

In many ways, The Shapes We Make feels like coming home, which is appropriate for a record that deals so much with death. Dan’s voice has hardly changed in the 15 years between my introduction and this new record, which makes this album feel deeply familiar from the first word said in the passionate spoken-word style that he’s built a career around. There’s a cadence to his vocal delivery that feels like a wave, scored by guitars, trumpets, synths, keyboards, and a multitude of other supporting instrumentation ebbing and flowing to create vast dynamic shapes that draw your attention towards the emotional urgency of his words.

If you miss some of the lyrics, as I’m sure many of us frequently do on initial listens of a record, you'll still catch that wave, but the true richness comes from diving in. Most of the record’s lyrics read like letters, diary entries, and memories. They’re correspondence between the writer, the listener, and unnamed third parties. The record reads as an invitation to converse with the music as it pleads, reassures, convicts, and comforts. In many ways, it echoes Levi The Poet’s 2014 release Correspondence: A Fiction, which similarly used dramatic scoring to support poetry about love and loss in the form of letters.

On The Shapes We Make, Dance Myth seems to speak directly to us, the listeners, imploring us to join in the shared humanity that makes us complete as people, flaws and all. In the album opener, “Gentle, Gentle,” you hear Smith plead, “Forgive yourself. If you can. For who you’ve been. You didn’t know then.” It’s an invitation to actively participate in the divine practice of grace rather than standing still in our regrets, our pasts, and our mistakes. This song offers a lesson I’ve had to learn time and again in therapy: to forgive oneself—a lesson that bears repeating, as it simply cannot be internalized the first time you hear it.

It’s often unclear whether Smith intends the songs and poems to be pointed at “you,” a specific individual, or “you,” the listener, but to my ears, it feels as though he’s speaking directly to my soul. It often feels as though Smith has chosen to sit down with each listener, allowing us to listen and meditate on the words he has carefully laid out. Even when the lyrics clearly show that a letter is for a specific individual whom the listener can never know, Smith still finds a way to make it feel universal in its specificity.

Lead single “Little Bird” reads like a eulogy, with Smith taking time to share about the pain of seeing a loved one leave this life. It serves as an apology to the subject of the song as he exclaims, “Sorry you couldn’t make it to where we were.” It isn’t all bleak, though. He celebrates the evaporation of life in death, referring to the dead as going “back into everyone I meet.” There’s a universality in the specificity of this piece, as we see a particular person cemented in the lyric. It begs us to share in the specificity that engulfs our lives, Smith confidently trusting that the listener can swap out the details to match their own loss, grief, and desire for peace.

We shift from grief to fear by track six, “This Accordion Life,” as there’s a palpable sense that something is wrong; Smith describes the way he’s seen by others as “just the shape of smoke from setting myself on fire” followed closely by exclaiming that tomorrow and the past are both terrifying. He leans on the hope of getting better, knowing that the only path forward is simply to keep going, a lesson that many minority groups have heard over and over in times of tribulation.

To speak personally for a moment, I want to mention that I’m a transgender woman, which has deeply shaped the way I view this record. In my experience, being trans is largely about self-identification. It’s about looking in the mirror and deciding who you want to be– no, rather, it’s about realizing who you are. Near the end of “This Accordion Life,” we hear Smith exclaim, “It’s embarrassing. All the times I’ve hidden or was made to feel I should hide any of the ways I shine. Told everyone I’m fine, and believed that lie myself.” It feels like a dagger in my heart as I sit in wonder and regret, asking myself why I took so long to find the ways that I should have been shining my entire life.

We return to death on “Dry County” as the pronoun shifts from “I” to “she” to “we” to “you.” The “I” represents the personal response to grief. “She” represents the person who was “waving like she had to go, and so she left.” “We” shows the intimacy of memory as Smith reflects on the past that was shared. Finally, “you” represents him speaking to a mystery audience who appears to be nearing death themselves. There’s a peace to the way that he speaks of death, as though he knows the comfort and fear that comes with that extraordinary adventure, choosing to optimistically opt into comfort in the great disappearing.

Finally, on the closing track of the album, we hear him end the record by singing “Tie me up, untie me,” appearing to reference mewithoutYou’s track of the same name, where lyricist Aaron Weiss sings that exact phrase, followed by “all this wishing I was dead is getting old.” Smith follows his phrase differently, however, finishing with “tie me up again.” I can’t begin to interpret what he means in that final moment of the record, but to me, it feels like a refutation of “all this wishing I was dead” that Weiss presented, choosing to emphasize the hope and joy of living a life that’s wild, urgent, and desperate for individual expressions of love.

The Shapes We Make is the record I want to hear while driving home from the gig or sitting in the line of cars as they leave the festival I’ve been at all weekend. Importantly, for me, it’s a balm that delivers contemplation through the noise, reassurance in times of hardship and grief, and peace in a time of wars: old and new, literal and figurative. 

It feels like an exhale. A restoration. An invitation.

“So, if you are alive, raise your hands. Keep them open. Reach out for anyone.”


Noëlle Midnight (e/er) is a transgender podcaster, poet, musician, and photographer in Seattle, WA. E can be found online with er podcast Idle Curiosities, tweets on Bluesky at @noellemidnight.com, photos on the Instagram alternative Glass at @noellemidnight, and movie reviews of varying quality on Letterboxd at @noellemidnight.

King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard – Phantom Island | Album Review

p(doom) records

Well, well, well. Once again, we find ourselves back in the Gizzverse. It wasn’t even a year ago that I was here telling you all about how death, taxes, and King Gizzard are life’s only certainties. And what did they go and do? They proved me right.

The Aussie psych-rock experimenters’ 27th(!!) album, Phantom Island, started with extras from the Flight b741 sessions. These songs were born out of the same hyper-collaborative energy as b741, but the band felt like they needed something else to be complete. After linking with the LA Philharmonic during their 2023 marathon show at the Hollywood Bowl, the Gizzards realized that live orchestrals were exactly what they needed to complete the circle. They connected with Chad Kelly, who created arrangements to accompany the meandering jams and stitched-together hooks locked in the Gizz vault. 

Phantom Island reimagines Gizzard’s home-grown rock-centric sound, filtering it through the lens of an opera house symphony orchestra. The symphonics are overdubbed atop the messy, chaotic jams, creating a mix of meticulous arrangements and free-wheeling improv that feels quintessentially Gizzard. Stu Mackenzie used a Tascam 8-track to blend the two sounds, combining them into one rock orchestra mashup. Phantom Island propels the sky-high, airborne stories of b741 into outer space. Gizzard broke through the atmosphere, sending their sound and their stories to another dimension. The result is an album that feels animated and colorful, even with its more insular narratives. When I close my eyes and listen, this feels like the soundtrack of its own movie or musical, bouncing between styles without losing cohesion. Would I be surprised if they turned this into a stage show? Not even a little—why shouldn’t King Gizz have their own Gamehendge? They dropped a “making of” documentary on YouTube last week, a 13-minute look into bringing the orchestrations into their cosmic sprawl. On the other side of the glass wall, the Gizzards sit on a couch in their flight uniforms from the “Le Risque” music video, heads hanging back as they listen to their jam fragments intertwine with the lush strings or grooving horns.

I’ve always loved King Gizz for their instrumentation. The high school band nerd in me is partial to Mackenzie’s penchant for flute, but I also remember being entranced by their dueling drum sets the first time I saw them live (Brooklyn Steel 2018, I almost passed out because I got too high). Gizz has always had inklings of symphonics in them, but Phantom Island is spacious, giving them more room to go on rambling tangents, switch from biker rock to chamber orchestrals, and delve even deeper into a narrative throughline. The album takes the listener on a journey from outer space to the underworld, with tales of being lost at sea (“Aerodynamic”), flying in a spaceship (“Spacesick”), or speeding down an anonymous open road (“Eternal Return”). Each song chronicles a different adventure and sometimes a different adventurer—whether or not the characters across the record are the same person, they’re all on their own journeys within the same greater universe.

Phantom Island opens with the title track, a jazz-funk jam that provides us with our setting: a feverish dreamland where nothing is what it seems (“Is this mental confusion or have I finally found my purpose?” and “The palm tree’s looking at me funny with a sideways belligerence”). The song unravels into its own miniature rock opera (“Phantom Island / Insane asylum” is now what my brain plays while returning to factory settings), making it clear early that nothing on Phantom Island is what it seems. 

The strings take center stage by the time we get to “Lonely Cosmos,” arpeggiating through unsettling minor chords and mixing with flute before fading into a sole acoustic guitar. It’s the send-off into space and the subsequent realization of your prolonged solitude. Where b741’s existentialism was strategic and hidden, Phantom Island gets right down into it. The unnerving string theme returns after the line “Are we alone in this cosmic effigy?” bending into its own dark, tangential underworld before yanking itself out of it, propelling back into its punchy acoustic melody with the line “I’m inhaling stardust.” It’s so casually random that I can’t help but chuckle. It’s that constant back-and-forth that keeps you on your toes, even when the orchestrals are at their most overpowering.

“Eternal Return” and “Panpsych” are the most b741 of the bunch, leaning psychedelic rock while still using the orchestrals as a central counterpoint. “Eternal Return” mixes spiky guitars and saxophone with sweeping strings and double-tracked vocals, creating a 360-degree sound that speaks to the song’s theme of being “on a round-trip perpetual.” “Panpsych” is equally as fuzzy and jam-centric, with flute tying the main theme together through cryptic lyrics (“The wind whispers secret message for those who’ve grown ears to hear it”).

Gizz holds the theme of “Lonely Cosmos” close through all of Phantom Island’s wandering journeys. Subsequent tracks place their characters in isolation, stranded or lost or eons away from anything familiar. “Spacesick” follows a nauseated astronaut on his first trip to space, already fantasizing about being back at home. “Aerodynamic” finds a lone sailor contemplating his last moments at sea. “Sea of Doubt” combines twangy country rock with pensive introspection, toying with anxiety, uncertainty, and the need for friends to help bring you back to yourself. Its opening is so bright and eager that the first lines, literally being “I’m on the edge of a cliff,” have delayed impact. The airy delivery, combined with the crisp guitar tones and trilling woodwinds, conflicts with the tension in the lyrics, namely in the lines about anxiety landslides, mind forests, and treading water. Two-thirds of the way through, the strings pull away, leaving just acoustic and vocals. A sweet falsetto, a harmonizing flute, a sigh of relief. “Here comes the sun to clear the fog / Here comes a friend for me to lean on”—bordering on corny, but its simplicity and gentle sincerity tugs at the heartstrings, an unexpected softness from the same guys who conjured sludge, fire, and thrash metal on PetroDragonic Apocolypse just two years ago.

By my twentieth trip around Phantom Island, it became clear that the whole journey could very well just be in my head, and that is precisely the point. The album drifts between structure and instinct, between story and sound. You can follow the narrative if you want, or simply let the whole thing wash over you. It will consume you regardless. The deeper you go, the harder it is to tell whether you’re hearing a rock record dressed up in strings or a symphony unraveling into a jam. Either way, we can take comfort in the fact that the Gizzverse keeps expanding. 


Cassidy is a culture writer and researcher currently based in Brooklyn. She loves many things, including, but not limited to, rabbit holes, Caroline Polachek, blueberry pancakes, her cat Seamus, and adding to her record collection. She is on Twitter @cassidynicolee_, and you can check out more of her writing on Substack.

Spice on the Side: A Conversation With Blue Cactus

Photo by Steph Stewart

With their third full-length album, North Carolina’s Blue Cactus has built on the rock-solid Classic country sounds they developed on their first two records—and they’re getting a little weird with it this time. Believer feels like what happens when you doze off on the screened-in front porch after putting a little something funny in your sweet tea. The familiar sounds comfort you, but then your mind drifts to something a bit more exploratory and cosmic.

Steph Stewart’s vocal range is truly impressive, and her songwriting style builds the perfect framework for it. Mario Arnez lays down some classically Sun Records style guitar work, but isn’t afraid to let Trey Anastasio influence the tone or experimentation.

Believer is comforting, gentle, and contemplative, and it brings surprise after surprise that welcome multiple relistens. It’s a fantastic summer album that blurs the lines between country music subgenres.

It was Steph and Mario’s first time in Kansas City, and I was lucky to welcome them to the Heartland. We sat down at Slap’s BBQ on the Kansas side, before their show at The Ship on the Missouri side. We talked about Believer, Hurricane Helene, Weird Al, cheesecake, and State Parks. Blue Cactus is finishing their tour up in the Northeast and New England through July.


SWIM: I mentioned earlier, Blue Cactus has a very classic sound. There is that Patsy Cline element, that kind of squeaky-clean Nashville Sound, especially on your early records. But the music has really evolved.

Steph, you’ve talked about the women of Lilith Fair being a big inspiration, and Mario, you've talked about your early experiences with Weird Al’s music being a big inspiration. What is the importance of having diverse influences and a variety of tastes outside of country/Americana music?

MARIO: I don't think you can separate anything, especially these days. Just having so much music available to us and growing up in the 90s into the 2000s where we were getting a lot of whatever MTV was feeding us, I grew up with a lot of the popular stuff. And then, yeah, Weird Al’s survey of Pop music, mixed in with a little polka, just kind of opened me up to all kinds of music.

SWIM: Those polkas really introduced me to a lot of songs that I hadn't heard before.

STEPH: And I think with Lilith Fair, I was really drawn to other women making music when I was coming up. So that was pretty influential, and there were just so many different styles of singing.

My family was really big into karaoke, so that's how I got into performing in front of people, doing that with them. We would go almost every Wednesday night to the Dragon Palace. It's this American Japanese restaurant in Hickory (North Carolina). We would just sing karaoke there, and it got me to enjoy the limelight a little bit. I would try out all kinds of songs. And my dad got a karaoke system at the house. First, it was like LaserDisc, and then he eventually upgraded to the same thing that they had at the karaoke bars. So I would basically practice at home, really just trying to imitate people. I think that really strengthened my voice a lot. I got a pretty big range from that. I mean, I was singing everything from like Sarah McLachlan, to the Cranberries, to Jewel, and of course, Patsy Cline and 90s country like Shania Twain.

I think it just got me trying stuff early on. I didn't have formal voice training, but I feel like that was it.

Photo by Caleb Doyle

SWIM: You both mentioned the 90s. I've noticed that, specifically what you might refer to as alt-country, is having a big moment. Country music, Americana, and folk are all having a bit of a moment right now, kind of a Renaissance. My theory is that it goes back to the fertile period for country music in the 90s and 2000s, which I think was an inspiration to people our age.

Especially in your home of North Carolina! MJ Lenderman and Wednesday are from Asheville. Fust is from Durham. North Carolina is really a breeding ground for this genre and its subgenres.

What is the importance of community for fostering a scene like the one in North Carolina?

STEPH: I think our immediate community has just been such a huge support. It's hard putting out a record! Having something like Sleepy Cat Records, which is really just a group of friends who are also musicians, and they believe in your work and want to see it get out there, sometimes that’s what it takes. It's hard to know how much of a drive I'd have at this point if it weren't for them. We all play music with each other, too.

Our drummer is one of the founders of that label! He's literally the backbone of the band and a pillar in our community. That (the community) really does make this all feel worthwhile. Like I said, I don’t know if I’d still be doing this if it weren't for other musicians in general.

The night before last, we stayed at our friend Dylan Earl's house, and he’s stayed at our house multiple times. It’s so important to have this network of a road family who also know what it’s like and do this, and we just help each other out.

It's just really restorative to be in that company of people who get it and give you a place to relax. We didn't even want to go downtown and walk around. It's like, no, let's just sit on your front porch!

MARIO: There are a lot of other bands and folks running labels in The Triangle (North Carolina’s “Research Triangle,” comprised of Durham, Raleigh, and Chapel Hill, and everything inside the triangle that those cities form). There are great studios and a bunch of different festivals and live events going on. So there are a lot of folks that you end up interacting with over the years being in the scene. It feels like a nice, dynamic place to be!

STEPH: Recently, the previous governor enacted new funding to go specifically towards North Carolina music. So they have a whole Arts Committee that basically oversees it, and there's this new financial support, which is so critical. We've been fortunate to work with that organization, Come Hear NC, and they've helped fund projects the labels put together. This can give that extra amplification as an artist in that area, which is really great.

SWIM: It's crucial to what you do! There are conversations about why there's a dearth of artists and musicians in some places, and it's like, well, people can't pay their rent. So if you give people money to do those essential things, they can be making art instead of working doubles every weekend.

On the same token as your community, late last year, Hurricane Helene ravaged the Southeastern part of the country, largely in places like Western North Carolina. Blue Cactus contributed to a 136-track compilation album, Cardinals at the Window, which gave 100% of proceeds via Bandcamp to relief efforts in NC and greater Appalachia.

What was it like to have so many musicians contribute to this thing that was supporting your home? And what role do artists play in a disaster of that magnitude?

MARIO: People absolutely turn to music when they need something to pull them along. I mean, there’s absolutely no substitute for federal funding and disaster relief. But yeah, in the small ways that we can help, it was a no-brainer to contribute to that (Cardinals at the Window).

We also bought chainsaws and sent supplies all over North Carolina. There are some great mutual aid organizations around us that we were able to connect with quickly.

STEPH: Overall, the touring lifestyle is very much in the ethos of mutual aid.

Staying at each other’s houses and helping out however you can, that’s just sort of built into the way a lot of musicians live. So the immediate reaction when something that devastating happens is like, how can we help people? And, yeah, of course, federal aid.

Marshall, North Carolina, was almost wiped off the map. The river got completely rerouted. A lot of those people were musicians that were friends of ours. So they basically had to act as first responders. And we were just in touch with them, like, what do y'all need from where we were at?

SWIM: We just had a huge tornado come through the north part of St. Louis City. That was like three weeks ago, and they just got federal funding in some small way. People have been up there every day cleaning up people's homes, you know?

STEPH: I'm sorry that happened. It just feels like it's become more and more common.

SWIM: I know. Unfortunately, I think that's what they were telling us about climate change. And nobody in charge really took it seriously.

Anyhow, for a more, um, uplifting question: Do you have an album or a song that you go to when you want to roll the windows down and drive around?

STEPH: I really love Bill Withers’s “Lovely Day.” It's one of my forever favorite songs, and that song really does help me get my day off to a good start. I should probably be listening to it a little bit more lately, because I just have to wake up and go, and I think I need a little bit of a morning soundtrack some days.

MARIO: I've got polarizing opinions here. When I need to drive, we've got a long stretch and we need to go, go, go. If I need something that I know I'm not gonna be flipping tracks or anything, I just put on some live Phish.

SWIM: Oh hell yeah. I love to hear that!

STEPH: Yeah, he listens to that a lot.

SWIM: Love to hear that. I was just listening to The Gorge ’98 this week.

MARIO: Great year.

SWIM: Great choices, both.

For the new album, Believer, Steph, you took some original photos, and Mario, you used those photographs to make some graphic design art on the cover and inserts. In addition, this is your third full-length album, and you’ve been making music together for at least eight years. Does the music and the act of putting together an album feel more personal now?

MARIO: Absolutely. I feel like this is definitely the most elbow grease we've put into a release, on a personal level. It feels like with every release, we’ve figured out how to put more of ourselves into the music.

We also just try to spend a little bit less money along the way! But yeah, over the Pandemic, we kind of picked up other skills.

STEPH: Yeah, I’m a perpetual hobbyist. I feel like I'm constantly finding new art forms that I want to dabble in and learn how to do. So it just seemed like, well, these photos look great.

We both felt those photos really made sense with the theme of the record. The whole process of taking those pictures was wild because I was kind of disappointed. The field had started to die. All these sunflowers were just dying. And I had black and white film, and I thought I would get something different initially.

It was like, well, I'm here. I might as well just take some pictures and see what happens. As I was walking around the park, there were so many birds there. A lot of goldfinches and other pollinators. It felt like those sunflowers were more full of life at that point than they were when they were in full bloom. They were about to drop their seeds and create food for all these birds.

It's funny how you look at something on the surface and don't initially see that kind of beauty in it.

SWIM: Yeah. It's like reframing what we think about the cycles of nature.

I think it's in The Great Gatsby where he talks about how “life starts all over again when it gets crisp in the Fall.” We think of the fall as everything starting to die, but it’s really this big clearing-out. Readying for what's to come next.

Have you picked up a live performance hack or tip?

STEPH: This isn't anything that revolutionary, but I almost always have to sing along in the van on the way there, so I warm up my voice. I don't do a lot of formal warmups, but I love singing before we’re actually on stage, and singing other songs that aren't ours.

Reba McEntire is a really good warmup because she's got this incredible range. If I can sing one of her songs, then I know I'll be ready.

MARIO: Shake off the cobwebs. If you've been driving for a couple hours and you've just been sort of a hermit for over half the day, you really gotta clear out the cobwebs. Either start talking out loud all of a sudden, or do some stretching. I feel like that's number one, just to make sure that we're not feeling like we're still rolling out of bed all day.

STEPH: Staying in State Parks on this tour has been really helpful. Most of the time, we'll have time to go on a nice walk. It helps me feel really awake and ready, for sure.

SWIM: What's the most recent physical media you've bought?

STEPH: Hmm.

MARIO: Clothes?

STEPH: No, those don't count.

It's been a little while now, but I did buy a Linda Ronstadt record at the Fuzzy Needle (in Wilmington, NC).

Photo by Caleb Doyle

SWIM: If this album was a dish or a meal, what would it be?

STEPH: Hmm. Interesting. Well, maybe this is just because I like it, but I definitely think the dessert would be cheesecake. Let's just start there.

SWIM: That's the way to do it. Start with dessert.

STEPH: Mm-hmm. Cheesecake and probably not plain cheesecake. I think it would have some kind of like raspberry sauce.

[to Mario] What kind of a main course are we talking about? Or an appetizer, for that matter?

He is the cook in our family.

MARIO: This is just funny. This comes back to the question of influences versus what the music actually sounds like.

It doesn't feel like it would just be some everyday meal that I'm whipping up. Yeah. We're talking something outside the norm!

Okay…we open with a Greek salad…

STEPH: I think that sounds great. I don't know why I'm thinking fried chicken. [To Mario] Are you thinking fried chicken?

MARIO: Sure!

STEPH: Okay, and then you're gonna need a couple of sides with that.

MARIO: This is not turning into a James Beard meal...

STEPH: I feel like we should really put more thought into this!

SWIM: It’s eclectic, though!

STEPH: Maybe hot chicken! But not too hot.

MARIO: Like a two on the spice? And you can add your own?

STEPH: Yeah, you can add your own spice. It'll be spice on the side.

I feel like there are a lot of shifts on the record. So, you do have that country kind of twangy stuff right at the top. That feels like hot chicken. But then you're getting into the synths and swirly stuff, and maybe that's like some kind of mashed potatoes, but they're not your classic ones.

There's gonna be something a little special left of the center. Yeah. [To Mario] What would that be?

MARIO: I mean, I don't mess around with truffles…

STEPH: No, I don't like those either.

MARIO: I think a James Beard type would do that, but I wouldn't!

SWIM:. Maybe just not a smooth mashed potato. Maybe there's some chunks.

STEPH: You like a chunk?

SWIM: Oh, I love a chunk.

STEPH: You can tell they're real potatoes!

SWIM: Mm-hmm.

I also love the fact that this answer took thought and collaboration. I think that speaks volumes of the record. It's one of those records that, at the end, you kind of do finally exhale.

It is comforting, it's dreamy, it kind of has your head in the clouds a bit, but then there are some experimental aspects to it. And that makes it so fun!


Caleb Doyle (St. Louis, MO) is a music writer and dive bar enthusiast. He would love to talk to you about pro wrestling, your favorite cheeseburger, and your top 10 American rock bands. You can find Caleb on most social media @ClassicDoyle, or subscribe to his music Substack, Nightswimming, HERE.