Lilac Queen – Things Are Different Now | EP Review

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Things are changing. Always. When you’re young, that prospect is exciting, if not a little hard to wrap your mind around. If you’re not careful, the constant nature of change can gradually shift from thrilling to terrifying as you get older. In life, you have two options; you can either lean into change and make the most of it, or you can give in and let change overwhelm you. No matter which path you choose, you must first process through the very nature of change itself, and that’s precisely what Lilac Queen is doing on Things are Different Now

The two-song EP from the Massachusetts-based No Sleep Signees begins with the jangle of a solemn grungy guitar. Shortly after these mood-setting strums, a single snare hit signals the rest of the band’s entrance. Suddenly the guitar, bass, drums, and a whirl of distortion all congeal into a swaying shoegaze riff reminiscent of Pity Sex. As the verses work through sentiments of shame and remorse, the chorus finds lead singer Lily St. Germain openly questioning their actions, singing, “and I wonder if I’ll get into heaven without digging holes under the fences.” They continue, eventually reaching something resembling a resolution, “and I wish I knew what I did to deserve this / it looks like I’m taking my chances.” As the final words of the third chorus ring out, a sear of distortion revives the band for one last push, the musical embodiment of telling yourself ‘you’re almost there.’

Shortly after this explosive final riffage, the song eventually fades, making way for a swirling ambient piece that flows seamlessly into the second track. Much like the first song, this ambient stretch is similarly interrupted with a series of snare hits followed by an equally hard-hitting riff. Here, guitarist Dug Demars takes up vocal duties in a disaffected Gleemer-esque manner over the instrumental. Eventually, both vocalists team up for the chorus, which also bears the release’s namesake, simultaneously singing and screaming, “Things are different now, there’s no way to go back.” 

The sentiments captured in this song’s chorus are the exact type of reckoning with change that everyone must face at some point in their lives. Whether it’s the loss of a loved one, the heartbreak of a decaying relationship, or just the constantly changing nature of life, sometimes it can feel hard to keep up. The release ends with a high-frequency guitar solo accompanied by crashing cymbals and rattling bass, all of which gradually mellow out into a nice instrumental landing strip that leaves the listener just enough time to meditate before the song fades into silence.

The prevailing sentiment throughout Things Are Different Now is sitting right there in the title. On this release, the band finds acceptance of change through their own resilience. No matter how painful or unexpected change may be, recognizing that it exists in the first place is a vital part of the process. Things Are Different Now is a 7-minute document of a young band coming to terms with that fact.

Oldsoul - High on Yourself | Single Review

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The best kinds of songs are the ones that go somewhere, and “High on Yourself,” the newest single from Oldsoul, is a song that takes the listener on a journey in just four short minutes. In listening to the band’s latest track on a loop, I was struck by how tonally different the song’s beginning sounds from its end. It’s like two separate pieces of music with completely different energies, yet if you follow the song’s emotional logic as it unfolds, that path makes all the sense in the world.  

“High on Yourself” is the story of a love that isn’t working. It begins with a slow drum pattern and a synth worthy of a Cyndi Lauper song. As the drums roll on, lead singer Jess Hall soon sways into the frame with self-hating lyrics depicting an imbalanced relationship in decay. As she lays out her needs and anxieties, she tries to see things from her partner’s perspective, gradually working her way up to a realization. About a minute into the track, she belts, “Our best times together are when you’re self-assured.” Two words into her next thought, the band fully kicks in; drums, bass, and guitar all swinging together in rhythm, forming a hearty indie rock riff. 

The synth swells, returning to full-power once more. The band responds with a jangly dance passage before dropping out for a breather. As Hall re-enters the spotlight, she finds herself trapped in the past, singing the song’s most nostalgic and sentimental line, “When I was young I was always with good things / I can’t believe our love isn’t working.” She quickly switches from denial to concessions, pleading, “I don’t even need to take it in / I don’t need to have a voice anymore.”

The group belts one more chorus before it feels like they’ve finally cast the shackles off. They throw to a shreddy guitar solo, the synth radiates, the drums pick up intensity, and Hall’s voice shakes as she reaches a passionate high note. After this outpouring, the group drops back down to a dancy indie rock clip before reaching a snappy send-off that’s as close to closure as a relationship like this will ever allow.

Niiice. Kiss 2020 Goodbye with Explosive New Single "$20 Mints"

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This one took me by surprise. Minnesota rockers Niiice. are well known for their hard-hitting Midwest emo tunes and always-entertaining internet presence (Twitter account #3 still going strong!), but what they deliver on their new single “$20 Mints” is a refreshing new tone for the group. Don’t let the compact package fool you; Roddie, Sage, and Abe make a hell of a statement in just one minute and twenty-four seconds.

The tune kicks off with overlaid guitar feedback and a wonderful sample of Michael Scott at his financial rock bottom before it quickly breaks into form with crunchy strings anchored by a tom-heavy drum beat. This dark and full-bodied sound fits perfectly with the lead vocals, which soar over the heavy but restrained instrumentals. Before too long, the sound starts building in volume and intensity, then explodes into a ferocious chorus featuring some phenomenal screams from Roddie. As quickly as the song gets going, its climax comes quickly and transitions directly into a swift ending. “$20 Minds” is a tune with no fat on its bones; it’s a great show of a band committing, throwing themselves at a track, and burning through it.

Despite its unexpected style, “$20 Mints” isn’t a brand-new song, as evidenced by the live recordings of it that date back as far as summer 2018. The song’s namesake comes from a marijuana-rich tour through Chicago with fellow Minnesotans Harper’s Jar, who put out a fantastic single “Ode to Space Lady” earlier this year. The fact that “$20 Mints” has been rattling around in the band’s toolkit for a while suggests that this may not be a complete shift in direction for Niiice., although it’s a welcome addition to their impressive output as of late. Only a few months off the heels of their LP, Internet Friends, “$20 Mints” contributes a slow and heavy sound to Niiice.’s catalog that I’d definitely encourage everyone to check out. The band keeps their edge while delivering a perfect slow-burn that blows up into one of the best barnburners of the year so far. When live shows return, this will be a song to go absolutely nuts to, and I for one, can’t wait.


Jack Hansen-Reed is an avid music fan from Omaha, Nebraska with a passion for all things DIY. In his free time he enjoys sticking it to the man, cheering on the Cubbies, and drumming in indie-americana act Bearwithus. Send him any music recommendations on Twitter at @jhansenreed.

The Sonder Bombs – Clothbound | Album Review

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How many friendships have ended because of COVID-19? I don’t have enough fingers to count the number of people I love who have shown a completely different side of themselves over the past year. We’ve watched people refuse to wear masks and stay home by the thousands, all because it infringes upon their “personal rights.” High-risk folks should just expect to die, right? We’ve watched people protest the closure of Disneyland but remain completely silent in the face of widespread racial injustice. This entitled community flocks to brunch in enclosed igloos but refuses to assist their unhoused neighbors on the streets. We’ve watched people do all of this and more, all because the alternative is slightly more inconvenient for them. I’ve discovered these selfish, narcissistic people not just in the world around me as some reckless “other,” but that they exist in my friend groups, role models, and even my family. As deadly and horrific as this pandemic is, the one bright side is that it has helped me filter these toxic people out of my life.

Even with the worst in plain view, the pandemic has also made me realize what’s important to me, and it’s not going out to bars and partying, but building deep connections with the people I hold closest to my heart. It’s easy to mistake your friend group as kind-hearted, but that’s not always the case. I still miss these people and think of them often, but then I realize I’m missing only fractured memories. Positive memories of late-night drives across state lines, screaming along to emo songs, and smoking in 7/11 parking lots get buried by feelings of anger and hatred towards people I thought I’d always be able to fall back on. I cried more often than not in 2020 but learned that it’s okay to cry--even cool. But puns inside, I realized that being sensitive and vulnerable isn’t a weakness, but actually a strength. Clothbound, the sophomore album by The Sonder Bombs, came at a time when I was struggling with feelings of inadequacy, tenderness, anger, and loneliness. This record carefully and precisely fleshes out each of these emotions in loving detail. 

With emotions and sensitivity on full display, The Sonder Bombs have crafted a masterpiece of a comfort album. But it wouldn’t be a Sonder Bombs release without some absolute bangers. Lead single “What are Friends For?” established the group’s mission statement early on. Clothbound isn’t a record about external relationships beginning or ending; it’s about Willow’s internal relationship with their sensitivity and self. It is watching the growth in real-time through Willow’s encapsulation of the full range of human emotion and gender expression. When I listen to this album, I find a home in Willow’s portrayal of sensitivity. I consider myself an overly sensitive person, and I found peace and solace in the fact that someone else shares these emotions that can sometimes feel larger than life. Not only that, but they are able to grapple with these feelings and put them into songs that help me feel less isolated in this time of turmoil.

Crying is Cool,” the second single released off the album, is the quarantine comfort song. “Netflix and a box of wine”? Yeah, that happens quite often. Am I gonna cry to whichever movie I put on? Probably. Between the nurturing lyrical content and summery flower-adorned music video, this song set the upbeat poppy tone for Clothbound with a track that’s not afraid to talk about feelings. Even the title conveys an evocative message. Whether it’s “Cr-crying is cool” or “F-feeling is fine,” the stuttered sentiments that close out each verse makes it feel like Willow is trying to convince themselves of these things in real-time. We hear them hesitating and nervous but also trying to build themselves up, growing into the affirmations as the song ends. It is the perfect tune to keep us holding on for spring weather and better times. 

Of course, with emotionally charged lyrics comes banging riffs. The hypnotizing dance party that is “Vegas BABY!!!” is brilliantly carried by Kevin Cappy and Jimmy Wilkens’ staple guitar and bass lines. The Sonder Bombs always deliver with the most catchy riffs and incredible articulation of pure emotion into each note played. The chorus’s back and forth vocals make for a dance party as vibrant and sophisticated as the lights of the Vegas Strip. We even get a taste of synth that shines and shimmers to a prismatic effect. This album is fuller than any other Sonder Bombs release thanks to support by Joe Reinhart, who recorded, mixed, and produced Clothbound. This is the most profound Sonder Bombs release yet, and the album is not only heartfelt but enchanting and magical thanks to songs like “The One About You.” The band has completely opened themselves to create an album that is relatable, masterly put together, and chock-full of passion. 

A departure from the sharp femininity and perfectly placed rage of Modern Female Rockstar, Willow fully opens their heart on Clothbound, realizing the feelings that lie beneath anger are equally as important. Both “Swing on Sight” and “k.” provide us an outlet for rage, complete with riffs, breakdowns, and even screams that welcome you to join in on the vent session. But, without neglecting those feelings of anger, the band has found that feeling a full range of emotions helps make peace with those angry thoughts. In Clothbound, each emotion holds significance. It’s growth in every regard. 

When I saw The Sonder Bombs in 2019, I identified with Willow in many ways, but mostly with my place as a woman in the scene. Within the time since, Willow has opened up to identifying with all pronouns. This album shows the depth of emotions that comes with finding your non-comforming place in the world and especially the music scene. Similarly, during that same time, I have transitioned into being nonbinary. This album is a whole new level of reassurance for a femme-presenting person in the DIY scene. To every sensitive nonbinary, this one is for your tender heart. 

Willow’s pure gentleness, combined with the elegance of a soft rainstorm in “Scattered,” creates a somber lullaby. Jer Berkin’s drums are what guides us on this soft-spoken track. With lyrics such as “seaside ashes scattered in someone else’s backyard,” a picture is painted of some broken midwest kids attempting to find closure in the complex process that is grief. This song takes me back to the sorrow embedded in Willow’s performance of “Pindrop” at the House of Independents on the 2019 Just Friends tour. As a then-unreleased song, I spent weeks trying to track down a recording and the lyrics. Every part of that performance stuck with me as I was currently picking up the pieces from the death of a loved one. The Sonder Bombs comforted me then, and they comfort me now with Clothbound.

There is delicacy and strength in being soft-hearted. This album is an all-consuming thesis on emotions, one in which we listen to Willow process and work through their feelings in real-time. Over the course of the album’s 31 minutes, we witness the band wrestle with emotions of every size, type, and capacity. By the time we get to the last song, “Play it by Fear,” we are dealing with Willow’s self-doubt in which they examine their rage that simmered over on the previous track. The group had just let out a whirlwind of anger on “k.” Despite the fact that Willow had spent the entire release trying to convince both themselves and the listener that these feelings are valid, they find themselves turning inward, entering a period of reflection, and beating themselves up. The lyric “wish I was free, not locked in a cage” conveys that although Willow spent the last nine songs with every emotion on full display, they still resort to locking themselves away for feeling. Full of regret and uncertainty, Willow realizes that the burden of support cannot be a solitary act. Upon the final verse of the album, Willow finds themselves reflecting on their place in the world and still feeling lost. The final lines echoing the sentiment, “I’m too big of a narcissist,” showing the need they are still left with: love and admiration from others.

Clothbound is an album about picking up the fallout of a heart cracked wide open. Yet in all the jumble of emotions, The Sonder Bombs manage to make peace with their enemies. Whether these enemies are internal or external, serenity is found through forging self-love and acceptance. In the rush of emotions that is life, recognizing your feelings is an essential part of growth and a vital part of your relationships. Clothbound stands as a monument to feeling. It’s a reassurance that emotions are okay to feel in full-form. It’s a reminder to never back down from those feelings, because that’s who you are at your core.


Ashley Bedore is a disabled, queer music lover living in Denver, CO. They can usually be found with a record spinning, head buried in communist theory, with cats on either side. As a sociology major with a never-ending love for the DIY scene, Ashley enjoys discussing accessibility and collective care in the scene to foster spaces where every single body belongs. Follow them on Twitter at @emomarxist.

Tiberius - Lull | Album Review

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Love and heartbreak have to be two of the most well-trodden territories in songwriting. I suppose they’re ever-fruitful creative ground since everyone’s relationships are different and all fluctuate in unique ways. Whether it’s friendship, a romantic relationship, or something else, that combination of two people coming together and forming something special between them means that love and heartbreak are infinitely interpretable topics. No two relationships are alike, and exploring those novel combinations of people has led to some of the best songs in the world. It’s also led to some of the most trite and soulless garbage imaginable. Turn on the radio or walk into a grocery store anywhere in America and odds are, within a few minutes, you’ll hear a song about a relationship either beginning or ending. That duality of love and heartbreak is all well and good, after all, people are still connecting to it and finding new ways to write about it after hundreds of years, but that doesn’t stop it from being commonplace. 

These days, I’m much more interested in the grey areas of life… The spaces between the defined path and the boundless area ahead. Those “commonplace” concepts of falling in and out of love are fine, but they’re extremes. We spend more of our lives existing in the ground between those two states. 

As an artist, what do you have to say about an unremarkable Wednesday? How do you fill the space when your friends don’t call and your family is far away? What do you do when it’s interminably slow at work and you need time to fill the void? This is the sort of grey area we’ve been living in since March of 2020, so maybe that’s what appeals to me so much about artists who stray away from the binary of “love” and “heartbreak.” More often than not, life isn’t “good and bad,” it’s mute and indescribable. It’s listless and empty. It’s either a hectic scramble or adrift emotionality. What you have to say about that is what tests your mettle as an artist, not finding a new way to say ‘I am sad about girls.’

While your mileage may vary, I think the first time that many of us experience this grey area of life in full is immediately after college. If everything goes according to plan, after graduation you’ll find yourself in your early 20s, degree in-hand, and debt piled up. You followed the path that society has set out for you; you went to school, did your homework, found your “calling,” now what? Most students enter the world lost and confused with a resume and a handful of intern credits that they expected to help them land them a job that they may not even want. Then they spend months (or years) finding their way into that job, all for the express purpose of paying off that debt they attained just trying to get here—what a great system. 

Lull, the sophomore album from Tiberius, delves into this grey area in full over the course of a sprawling 48 minutes. Helmed by multi-instrumentalist Brendan Wright, he bills the release as an exploration of “self-hatred vs. self-love, the complexities of transitioning between youth and aging, and the power of the pen and expression.” 

Walking a fine line between midwest emo and lush indie rock, the collection of songs on Lull prattle on in the most charming and abstract way. Sometimes dipping into near-rapped spoken word excursions and exploratory solos, the music is slowly but surely making its way forward. This record is the musical equivalent of sleeping over at someone’s house and navigating your way to the bathroom in the dark; you move forward, one unsure step after another, all the while your hands gently scan the empty middle ground in search of any obstacles that might impede your journey. Despite the dread that comes with navigating this unfamiliar territory, the sense of satisfaction you feel when you accomplish that journey and make it back to the warm comfort of the bed makes it all worth it. The excursion was necessary, even if you didn’t want to embark on it.

Perhaps the best indicator of Lull’s message comes in its name… Lull. It’s a fitting word to describe that period of your life where the predetermined path ends and the world lies before you. What direction do you go now? How fast should you be moving? Are you even going the right way? Lull captures the lost essence one feels as the gust of energy, creativity, and forward momentum suddenly gives way to a distinct type of nothingness.

Opening track “The First of Many Lasts” sets the tone for the release with a swirl of strings, acoustic guitar, and xylophone that all congeal together to establish a melody that will present itself throughout the record. After this calming 50-second introduction, “MPHL” brings this swirling melody to a complete halt, acting as an instrumental stop sign that commands attention and draws focus on Wright’s vocals. After an opening salvo of downtrodden lyrics, the cymbal taps grow louder, eventually culminating into a fully-fledged drum build. As the song begins to swell and pick up intensity, the remainder of the instruments join in, forming a swaying instrumental that acts as an optimistic counterpoint to the cynical lyricism. These first two tracks serve as a detailed and multi-layered introduction to the complicated and emotional world of Lull

From there, lead single “Pale Ale” is a catchy, cathartic anthem that doubles as one of the record’s most pointed and self-contained tracks. This song walks the line between midwest emo and classic indie rock in the vein of Broken Social Scene. There are drums, bass, multiple guitars, and even a soaring sax solo that manages to fit into the song seamlessly. Even though some tracks feature additional band members, I can’t help but marvel at the fact that something this dense and layered came from one mind. While Lull was created and recorded primarily by Wright alone, “Pale Ale” acts as a hyper-collaborative high point that he is able to revisit thematically later in the album. 

From here, the band explores the aforementioned topics of relationships, aging, creativity, and self-expression through a series of constantly-shifting tracks. The album’s title track pairs gorgeous female vocals over a buoyant guitar line that drives the song forward. “Urn” is a dark and groovy cut with an instrumental reminiscent of early Interpol or even The Cure. “Furrow” pairs an electronic instrumental bed with a wispy guitar and gentle piano for a funky and laid-back excursion. 

Despite the fact that all of these songs feel unique and stylistically different, they all fit into the larger theme of the album thanks to Wright’s vocals and overarching artistic vision. No matter what stylistic indulgences or genre-based fluctuations the album goes through, Lull always centers back to the same concepts of progress and feeling like you’re not quite where you’re meant to be.

Are you actually growing or merely sustaining? Did you follow the instructions, or were you even meant to in the first place? As damaging as a lull can be in your life, the beauty is that it can also act as a period of reflection. Stalling out may feel bad because you’ve lost momentum, but it can also be a much-needed pause that allows us to think, find that missing sense of direction, and pull ourselves out. It’s all about perspective; a lull is only as negative as you allow it to be. On the other side of every lull, there is explosive progress, affirming relationships, and personal development. A lull might feel bad while you’re in it, but sometimes the only way out is through.