Retirement Party – Runaway Dog | Album Review

I first discovered Retirement Party through a stroke of Spotify Algorithm Luck™ when the streaming platform served up “That’s How People Die” after my emo album of the day had come to a close. The song opens with Avery Springer’s raw vocals accompanied by sparse, solitary guitar strums as she recounts a time she fell asleep outside and woke up with a debilitating sunburn. Before spiraling out about the implications that this ultraviolet overexposure has on her long-term health, a wall of distorted instrumentation washes over the track, whisking the listener off into a hearty emo riff. Not only is this a perfect introduction to Springer’s style of nervous, self-deprecating energy, but it also subverts expectations in a way that makes you think that anything could happen next. 

That song hooked me instantly, and I soon found myself clicking my way down the Spotify rabbit hole to dig into the rest of the album. I quickly discovered that the band was signed to Counter Intuitive Records, which is home to bands like Prince Daddy & The Hyena and Mom Jeans, aka an immediate seal of approval. The remaining 30 minutes of the album were some of the most sharp, well-observed, and personable emo I’d ever heard. It wasn’t particularly midwesty or tappy, but it still scratched my insatiable itch for precise guitarwork and fast-paced, punky instrumentals. 

The thing that immediately sold me on Retirement Party was the band’s voice. Not just Avery’s singing voice, but the way that she writes too. In her solo side project Elton John Cena, Springer aptly describes her artistic approach with the line “it’s kinda my thing to write sad songs that sound pretty happy.” While cutting and immensely self-aware, I don’t think I’ve ever heard an artist capture their creative essence more accurately in-song. 

Retirement Party’s debut is packed with overthinking, self-doubt, and awkwardness. The choruses were sticky and sing-along-able, but also portrayed the all-too-relatable feeling of being deeply uncomfortable with yourself. Luckily, Retirement Party’s sophomore album Runaway Dog feels like a direct extension of Somewhat Literate in both style and substance. 

Lead single “Runaway Dog” acts as yet another perfect opener, this time opting to wade the listener into the record with a chunky guitar line that bounces back and forth like a metronome keeping time for Avery to enter the scene with a mouthful of doubtful lyrics. As she spouts off numerous cynical observations, the drums swing in followed quickly by the bass, all of which fall in line with the riff already established by Springer’s guitar. Together, these pieces all coalesce into one finely-oiled machine that gradually picks up momentum until the track lifts off into a soaring riff that’s as dancy as emo music could ever hope to achieve. 

While Somewhat Literate finds Avery rife with insecurities about her life, her relationships, and her place in the world, Runaway Dog sees her crossing at least one of those concerns off her list. While she may have found her place as a musician in the intervening years between records, it’s clear that she’s still wrestling with just as many insecurities and looming dreads. 

The decision to make “musician” your job title is a weighted one; it’s a career that requires commitment, creativity, and a near-endless supply of belief in oneself. To make money off of music, you ostensibly have no choice but to become a touring musician, and to be a touring musician, you must be tireless, risk-tolerant, and willing to eat Taco Bell for a minimum of ten meals a week. Runaway Dog is a record that sees a young musician struggling with those facts, knowing in her heart that this is what she wants to do while also recognizing the risks and tradeoffs must be made in the process. 

Music-related unease aside, Retirement Party also offers up a deluge of more widely-relatable personal anxieties throughout Runaway Dog’s 34-minutes. One of the things that I’ve always admired about Avery’s writing style is her ability to hone-in on hyper-specific details and obsess over them to a worrying degree. While there’s still plenty of that to be had on the band’s sophomore record, the group also manages to shift the lens out to a broader scope. 

The band tackles existential dreads large and small, whether it’s the dynamic of touring on “Wild Boyz” or the looming specter of climate change on “Afterthought.” As always, Avery’s lyrics remain honest and cutting, utilizing her plainspoken delivery to disarm the listener and force them to lean in a little closer and listen a little harder. This is most apparent on songs like “Fire Blanket,” where Springer recites her lyrics over a blistering guitar solo and rattling rhythm section that simultaneously fit together but also seem at odds with one other.

Anyone that’s listened to Retirement Party before knows that this is about par for the course, and the band’s killer writing is always accompanied by killer riffs. Whether it’s “No Tide” with an instrumental that plows into you like a school bus or the thunderous and biting riff that closes out “I Wonder If They Remember You,” this record is chock-full of groovy emo-adjacent shredding that’s both striking and catchy. 

The true “dynamic” of Retirement Party is heavy-hearted lyricism alongside those hard-hitting riffs. This is music that’s primed for beer-spilling moshpits and sweat-covered singalongs. These are sad songs, but you might not even recognize that until you’re singing along at the top of your lungs and start to realize what the lyrics actually mean. 

While Somewhat Literate is an album about the painful monotony and granularity of everyday life, Runaway Dog shifts those anxieties into a more specific place that directly reflects Avery’s current situation. While the experience of being a touring band living life on the road is not a universal one, the emotions that are used to grapple with that reality are. Avery has a knack for turning the listener to an empath, and these songs are so honest that you begin to feel her life, her experiences, and her anxieties by-proxy. 

In a world where touring music is on pause and musicians are struggling more than ever with their chosen career path, I believe it’s important to recognize that reality and help out in any way possible. This is not a “coronavirus” record, but it tackles harsh realities surrounding musicianship and now these struggles feel like they’re caught in a new light. Life is hard for everyone, and it’s hard for different reasons. We all get that desire to break away from things, leave it all behind, and start anew, but as scary as that seems, it takes even more courage to stay, confront those problems head-on, and actively try to make things better. In a time when we need art, creativity, and escapism more than ever, the sacrifice that goes into creation cannot be understated enough, and that’s exactly what Runaway Dog is sprinting towards.

Carpool – Come Thru Cool (Punk Ass) | Track Premiere

The newest Carpool single begins with a swirl of radio static that immediately transports the listener back to the 90s, a side-effect that’s very much intentional. Within seconds, a sludgy guitar lick overwhelms the senses, quickly paving the way for a throat-shredding bellow that would make Keith Buckley proud. And just like that… you’re in Carpool’s world.

Following lead single “The Salty Song (Erotic Nightmare Summer),” the band’s latest track “Come Thru Cool (Punk Ass)” utilizes just as many parentheses and packs just as much of a punch as its predecessor. Throughout the song, Carpool pairs thrashy, fuzzed-out power chords in the vein of fellow New York rockers Prince Daddy & The Hyena with blissed-out melodic vocals that echo 90s radio rock giants like Third Eye Blind. This combination results in an intoxicating two minutes and twenty-two seconds that unequivocally proves that there’s never enough sneering emo-punk in the world.

On a conceptual level, “Come Thru Cool” is at once a hometown anthem, a childhood nostalgia trip, and a pissed-off vent session. It’s a song about replacing your waning innocence with self-help; a blur of warm, fuzzy feelings that are constantly clashing with the cold realities of adulthood. It’s an anthemic, fist-balling, scream-along sunny weather punk rock song that combines a catchy Oso Oso-tier chorus with the full-bodied delivery of Dogleg. Carpool places these full-throttle vocal stylings over a tight and polished instrumental and caps it all off with a bout of shouty pop-punk gang vocals. “Come Thru Cool” is a hooky punk confection that lodges itself in your brain like bubblegum. If these singles are any indication, the band’s forthcoming album is guaranteed to be one of the most impressive debuts of the year.

“Come Thru Cool (Punk Ass)” drops on streaming platforms tomorrow, May 15th, and Carpool’s debut LP will be available everywhere on June 5th through Acrobat Unstable Records.

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Snarls – Burst | Album Review

Life has a spectacular way of subverting your expectations, sometimes in the worst way. Sometimes life surprises you and things work out in a beautiful and serendipitous way. Other times your hopes and expectations are desperately crushed by something completely out of your control. Sometimes it’s just confusing. Regardless of what it’s sending your way, an important part of navigating life is simply maintaining; the ability to remain flexible and take those hits as they come (or don’t). That emotional and mental flexibility is exactly what the debut album from Snarls, is about.

At its core, Burst is a finely-crafted statement on emotions. Not just one emotion, but all of them. It’s an album about the totality of feeling. There’s exploratory wonder on “Walk in the Woods,” destructive remorse on “All of This Will End,” and a meditative reflection on aging in “Twenty.” The record even goes as far as questioning the legitimacy of those feelings and experiences on “Marbles.” This record captures the existence of an over-feeling person soaring through life soaking up emotions like a sponge until they’re squeezed too tight and it all comes pouring out.

In exhuming this wealth of feelings onto the canvas, Snarls have created a record that approaches topics rarely touched upon in music. It’s an album that reminds us to be gentle with ourselves and that all of our feelings are valid.

As multifaceted as Burst is when it comes to emotions, it’s equally diverse in its musical flavors and inspirations. Throughout the record, the band displays an impressive spread of indie and alt-rock that feels at once ever-changing yet familiar. There’s the wholesome, positive vibes of Alvvays, the confessional, lovelorn delivery of Beach Bunny, and at times the twangy, punch of Sleater-Kinney. There’s a lumbering grunge riff on “Hair,” a masterful 90s pop rock build on “Concrete,” and “All of This Will End” boasts a winding instrumental slow burn on that eventually erupts into a pang of soaring confusion. It’s eclectic and a little disorienting, but somehow it all makes sense in the grand scheme of things. Much like its cover, Burst is a multi-colored hand-crafted explosion of bright colors, glittery feelings, star-speckled moments.

The album’s closing track finds lead singer Chlo White flashing forward to her own death soundtracked by thunder, kind words, and tearful goodbyes from friends. It’s the final culmination of a lifetime of feelings and experiences all leading to one inevitable but spectacular end, just like the album itself. Burst is the sound of overlapping and conflicting feelings clashing within our brains. It’s the opposing and contradicting events of life that force us to act and reveal what kind of person we really are.  

So as life continues to throw us a series of constant curveballs, sudden dips, and highs that can sometimes feel unearned, it’s important to remember that it’s all part of the process. We get to be alive. We have the unbelievable fortune to experience the world around us. We are able to connect with others and forge lasting bonds with them. Sometimes life is beautiful and joyous beyond words, but other times it hurts for seemingly no reason. It all ends in the same place, so why wouldn’t you want to take in as much as possible while you’re here?

100 gecs' Ringtone Remix is a Joyous Pop Confection

100 gecs might be one of the most exciting, promising, and future-forward musical acts I’ve ever had the joy of discovering. While I connect with them from an omnivorous music fan’s perspective, there’s undeniably something greater lurking just beneath the surface. Last year, their debut 1000 gecs shocked me. It was a 23-minute unveiling that was familiar yet unlike anything I’d ever heard in my life. I could hear pieces of rap, metal, hip-hop, trap, and PC Music all throughout it. I heard bands that I loved in high school like I See Stars and Breathe Carolina. I also heard artists that shaped my final years in college like Brockhampton and Lil Aaron, and I heard futuristic poppy music that I was just getting into like Charli XCX and SOPHIE. 1000 gecs wound up on my album of the year list for 2019, and just recently, guest writer Jack Gol gave a succinct rationale for it being one of the best releases of the decade. So yeah, 100 gecs are that band.  

It’s not often I’m looking forward to a specific song release, let alone a remix, but one month ago Charli XCX fan account @FckyeahCharli posted this video of producer umru playing a remix of 100 gecs’ “ringtone,” and I’ve been looking forward to hearing it in-full ever since. The remix featured PC Music pop star Charli XCX, agro rapper Rico Nasty, and kawaii indie band Kero Kero Bonito. That lineup, while unexpected, made almost too much sense in the context of the song. Despite their seemingly divergent styles, these three artists fit into the chaotic world of 100 gecs like a second home.

Today 100 gecs released that star-studded remix of “ringtone,” and it’s every bit as explosive and life-affirming as I had hoped. Within the context of the original record, “ringtone” was the sugary-sweet heart beating at the center of the LP. Surrounded by booming electronics, and chrome-covered bangers, “ringtone” was a precious song about love in the internet age. It captures a specific brand of zoomer lifestyle comprised mostly of jumping between text chains, group DMs, chatrooms, and real-life obligations all while trying to maintain a meaningful relationship in the process. 

Within the song, the titular ‘ringtone’ represents a sort of unique sonic identifier that cuts through the noise of life and technology to let our narrator know that it takes precedence over whatever else is currently happening. It’s a specific countermeasure to our increasingly connected world and a lovely narrative device to depict a relationship with. “ringtone” is also the record’s most humanistic and wholesome song; a momentary reprieve from the bombastic electronics and overpowering emotions that surround it. At the end of the day, “ringtone” is an extremely simple and straightforward love song, which ironically makes it one of 100 gec’s most unique. 

What was once the love-ridden centerpiece of the group’s debut is now a joyous multi-faceted celebration that also reflects the wildly-diverse future of pop music. Beginning with Charli XCX’s pitch-perfect reinterpretation of Laura Les’ chorus, the listener is immediately thrown back into the love-sick context of the original song. Charli’s verse is fast-moving and over-the-top, evoking all the best parts of her self-titled record with fast cars, champagne, and nights out with friends. 

From there, Sarah Bonito enters with a verse that would have sounded perfectly in-place on Bonito Generation bearing her trademarked rapped delivery punctuated by zany background effects ripe for cute proto-TikTok videos. After another chorus from Charli, Rico Nasty commandeers the song as she belts out a line that makes my heart melt every time I hear it: “I think I might be addicted to your kisses.” She sing-raps her first few lines over a wall of ascending heavy metal guitars that feel like that peaking moment of elation as the roller coaster slowly reaches its apex. Nasty continues to spit a tight and (mostly) clean verse that captures the emotions of a budding relationship with as much badassery and pizzaz as we’ve come to expect from her.

The cherry on top comes after one more mini-appearance by the KKB singer where Laura Les comes back to perform her original chorus but stops short and asks Charli XCX to sing it once again, just because it sounds that good. 

The ringtone remix is a goosebump-inducing endorphin-producing portrayal of love. It’s hyper-collaborative and cosmically low-stakes, but personable and exhilarating beyond words. This song captures the unbridled euphoria of having a crush and finding out that they feel the same way about you. It makes my knees weak and my heart full. If the rest of 2020 sounds half as good as this remix, then we truly are living in the future.

Holy Fawn – The Black Moon | EP Review

It’s funny how far first impressions go when it comes to music. Just take a look at Roddy Ricch’s chart-topping hit “The Box.” While the song itself is an undeniable meme-worthy earworm, most people’s first exposure to the track was this infectious 30-second Triller video of Ricch singing along to his own song around the house. Not only did that video expose millions of people to the song across various forms of social media, but it also gave a humanizing and endearing look at the person behind the music to both fans and potential listeners alike. At the time of writing, “The Box” has claimed a #1 position on the Hot 100 and Billboard 200, holding off both Justin Bieber and Selena Gomez as the two pop stars beg their fans for streams in order to attain that coveted Number #1 spot. So why am I talking about a trap song in a review for a three-track shoegaze EP? Because my first brush with The Black Moon was an equally-impactful experience, just on the opposite end of the tonal spectrum.

There’s nothing better than going into music blind. I went into Holy Fawn’s most recent EP having only a vague idea of who the band was. I knew they were signed to Triple Crown, and I knew people liked 2018’s Death Spells, but that was about it. For all I knew, they could have been hardcore, pop-punk, or country… So when I say I went into The Black Moon blind, I mean ignorant.

I’ll admit I’ve been starved for new music in 2020, and January 17th felt like the first big day for new releases this year. We got A posthumous Mac Miller album, a gorgeous new Pinegrove record, a groovy debut from 070 Shake, and a surprise-released Eminem album. It was already a pretty stacked day, but when I saw that Holy Fawn had released a new EP I figured “why not?” and decided to give it a shot.

When you hit play on a song with zero expectations, you tend to make a snap judgment within the first few seconds, and I knew within the first moments of “Candy” that this EP was going to be something special. Immediately met with a swirl of ambient noise followed by a wall of shoegazey riffage, the opening track sets the mood with a masterful hand. Within seconds the song grows in size until it’s towering over you, casting a dark shadow and eclipsing any source of light. The riff eventually dies down for a post-rock guitar line and some of the EP’s most clear-cut vocals, which are soon subsumed by an instrumental build led by a steady drumroll. That build crescendos and drops out for a brief moment of silence before the listener is plunged back into another monstrous riff accompanied by distant black metal screams.

The second track, “Tethered,” acts as a bit of a breather, a three-minute instrumental respite from the emotionally-draining songs that surround it. Reverb-laden guitar and bass notes intertwine as decorative ornamental ambiance circles around them. Then a whir of low-humming static carries the listener to the final track, whether they’re ready for it or not.

Seven-minute closing track “Blood Pact” begins slowly, carrying over that static from the preceding song, but now pairing it with an electronic drumbeat and orchestral soundscapes reminiscent of the early-career This Will Destroy You. Soon harmonized vocals emerge over the hybrid beat which now feels equal parts natural and synthetic. This Slowdive-like harmonization makes way to a measured verse that feels almost Wicca Phase-inspired. After smoothly transitioning between these vastly-different genres, you realize that you have no idea where the track is going next. Around the three-minute mark, the electronic drums fade out and a solitary post-rock guitar note makes way for a soaring passage where rattling bass, driving guitar, crashing cymbals, and searing vocals all coalesce into one cathartic outpouring of emotion. After every drop of this destructive essence is poured out, the electronic beat returns once more and carries the listener off into the silence.

Every once in awhile, you’ll sit down to listen to an album that just hits you in the right spot. Holy Fawn’s The Black Moon is a beautiful EP that just happened to crystalize some feeling I didn’t even know I had inside me. It reminds me of some of my favorite post-rock bands, some of my favorite shoegaze bands, and even some of my favorite new bands like Greet Death. Much like Greet Death’s New Hell (which landed a spot on our 2019 Album of the Year list), The Black Moon is a slow-moving and deeply-moody release that unfurls and slowly permeates every corner of your mind. It’s transcendent, foreboding, and unshakable. This EP is an absolutely fantastic start to the year and proof that sometimes all it takes is one open-minded click in Spotify for art to find its intended audience.