Indigo De Souza – All of This Will End | Album Review

Saddle Creek

I’ll start this with a little bit of context- I was not planning on being single for the last year of my 20s, having a four-and-a-half-year relationship end with a whimper in the dirty parking lot of my favorite Thai restaurant. Further context: I had never been on a dating app before this year, even during my undergrad when they started to pop up and capture the dating zeitgeist. I’ve heard horror stories, of course- strange sex in public parks (not sure how that’s even possible?), reserving a table for two only to awkwardly leave the restaurant or dine alone in silence. I also vaguely remember one of my college classmates telling me they got mugged and that the person they matched with didn’t even exist? But regardless of these objectively unpleasant experiences, I decided, against my better judgment, to download a couple of dating apps and sell myself in the name of love.  

Dating is no simple task, and dating on the eve of your 30s is even more difficult. Dating on the eve of your 30s in the age of Tinder and Bumble is a fool’s errand, the ultimate task of God’s Romantic Jester. Tech-Bros have ushered romance into the Gig Era, offering potential partners in a shiny mobile app that is somewhat similar to a mobile gacha game- with microtransactions to boot. Here I sit on my couch, cracked iPhone in-hand, swiping left or right on people based on very little information that I read less than 5 seconds ago. And to make matters even more absurd, people are doing the exact same thing to me when I pop up on their screens! But I’ve found beautiful things in strange circumstances, so on and on I swipe into the wee small hours of the early morning. 

After a week or so of swiping, matching, texting, ghosting (ghoster and ghostee), boosting, and more, the acrid stench of doubt starts to materialize across my subconscious. And how couldn’t it? I’m just a dude, being exposed to more people than my great-grandpa met in his entire lifetime within the span of an hour- and I hadn’t even gone on an actual date yet. I start to take note of others’ profiles, making small tweaks to mine so that the almighty first impression lands smoothly. At some point, it starts to feel like the Terms of Service was a job application in disguise- except the end goal is intimacy and not employment. My sense of self begins to intertwine with my Dating App Self, the unattainable farce of perfection always tantalizingly just beyond my fingertips. Is showcasing my authentic self possible in such a small space that has been programmed by Silicon Valley to be consumed in passing?

The struggle of living an authentic, loving life is explored by singer-songwriter Indigo De Souza throughout her discography, and her latest, All of This Will End, is no exception. However, it’s hard to ignore the feeling that the angle of the struggle has shifted from her previous offerings into a more grounded state of acceptance. The painting that graces the cover of All of This Will End features the same mother-daughter characters (beautifully painted by Indigo’s own mother) that have become a sort of trademark for Souza’s work. Here, they find themselves at the scene of car trouble, the mother holding her phone towards the heavens and the daughter sitting up against the busted vehicle with an air of resignation. Not an ideal situation by any means- but the painting breathes acceptance of it all, from the characters themselves to the warm colors of the desert that they have become temporarily entrapped in. They are Here, and This is Happening.

Of course, being a person is a messy affair, filled with moments of excruciating pain and biblical euphoria. We like to paint those transitory moments of joy as characteristic of who we are as a person; small moments stretched so far that they lose their ephemerality and become another reason to swipe left. But Indigo de Souza knows that these moments, while important, are not the sole ingredient in the creation of ourselves. Her pen emulates a razor, eviscerating the everyday with jarring transparency and letting the undercurrent flow free, no matter how ugly it may seem. “Parking Lot” deals heavily with agoraphobia brought upon by anxiety, turning a grocery store into an overstimulating but necessary evil since she’s “gotta eat somehow.” “Always” is a cacophonous question to Indigo’s father, wondering how much his words were worth in the loud silence of his absence. “Losing” is a heart-wrenching piece that wrestles with the ups-and-downs of mental health amid interpersonal relationships in perpetual flux. 

What makes Indigo’s lyrical prowess all the more lovely is her exceptional ability to write grungy, poppy gems that smoothly float across genres in a way that could only be described as “natural.” Perhaps even more impressive is how deftly she respcts the audience’s time. Glancing over All of This Will End’s A-side reveals a series of tracks that begrudgingly go past the two-minute mark (title track “All of This Will End” clocks in at 2:59, but I respect the hustle), yet none of these songs feel like half-baked ideas or throwaway tracks designed to pad the Spotify stats. In fact, I would say I wouldn’t even mind if some of these tracks were longer. Heavy-hitting “Wasting Your Time” has a gorgeous, breezy chorus that is the perfect response to the thick chords of the verses- but we are only graced with it once before the song’s end (perhaps, its rarity makes it all the more beautiful). “Parking Lot” ends with the poignant observation: “Maybe I’ll just always be a little bit sad,” before coming to a sudden end. But really- what else does Indigo need to say? You can almost feel the shrug of acceptance as she sings it: She is Here, and This is Happening.

Side-B of All of This Will End continues to showcase Indigo’s songwriting talents as the pace cools down a bit and the songs grow a little longer in length, the lyrics a little more surreal. The music also starts to branch out even further, flirting with dance music on “Smog” and “The Water,” followed by a small affair with alt-country on closers “Not My Body” and “Younger and Dumber.” Indigo continues to dig deep into herself lyrically, reckoning with the past, the present, and the future. “The Water” finds herself in the river of time as she fondly expresses her love for the water that lets her relive the memories of her younger self. Closing track, “Younger and Dumber,” is a beautiful ballad of accepting the naivety of youth while questioning the uncertainty of the future- and exploding into a declaration of a love so strong that it seems to exert its own force. Admiringly, Indigo extracts gratitude from all of her experiences, side-stepping the human tendency to sift through our experiences for any opportunity to blame whatever we feel has wronged us. A well-spring of hope bubbles up from within her, turning the crushing weight of existence into a force of creation rather than destruction. 

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I’m sitting outside a cafe, sipping a black coffee with a CBD joint (a hippy-speedball, but for people with an anxiety disorder). I let my mind wander as I exhale a thick cloud of smoke, thoughts coming and going with the traffic of the busy street by my side. I aimlessly swipe away on Bumble, the app sending me “encouraging” automated messages while simultaneously reminding me to use the Superswipes that I got with my (sigh) premium subscription. Fifteen minutes zip by, my joint burned to a roach, my leftover coffee a cold puddle of mud at the bottom of the paper cup. I put my phone down and look around at the life happening around me. It's a beautiful, sunny spring day, freshly washed after a long week of rain. Suddenly, my phone lights up with a notification from Bumble- instead of the scheduled automated message, it’s telling me I’ve got a match. I am Here, and This is Happening. 

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Nickolas is an artist based in Southern California. Described by a beloved elementary teacher as an “absolute pleasure to have in class,” his work wrestles with the conflict between privacy and self-expression in the digital age. You can find him shitposting on Twitter @DjQuicknut and on Instagram @sopranos_on_dvd_.

Atmosphere – So Many Other Realities Exist Simultaneously | Album Review

Rhymesayers

Long before “emo rap” was trending on SoundCloud and blaring from fentanyl dealers’ iPhones, there was Atmosphere. The Minneapolis hip-hop duo comprised of lyricist/rapper Sean “Slug” Daley and producer Anthony “Ant” Davis have been celebrated for their emotionally vulnerable albums like 2002’s God Loves Ugly and 2008’s When Life Gives You Lemons, You Paint That Shit Gold. In those years, it was called “backpack rap” — indie rappers with a turned-up nose at the mainstream, money-and-women music on the radio. These were the guys focused on introspection and self-reflection, big ideas and small bank accounts. Many of the artists from the Definitive Jux and Rhymesayers label rosters spearheaded the subgenre, like the lexiconically encyclopedic Aesop Rock and the politically charged Brother Ali.

Atmosphere wrote a lot about heartbreak and angst, notably on classic tracks like “Fuck You Lucy” or “Trying To Find A Balance.” Slug’s mission to pull at heartstrings and brain stems can come off as forward-thinking or totally corny, depending on how much weight you’re willing to give his mantras. Take, for example, “Bigger Pictures,” the second single from their latest album, the galaxy-brained mouthful So Many Other Realities Exist Simultaneously. On that song, Slug takes us chronologically through his life at the ages of 1, 11, 21, 31, 41, and 51, which he’ll turn this September. In his younger years, he was “just the first son to carry the burden. I was barely a person” and “an extension of environment and reinforced messages.” As an adult, “learning how to deconstruct my puzzle” and “following my design, trying to find a little solace in how the stars aligned.” I could see how someone may find those excerpts trying too hard to be meaningful or “fake deep.” Especially in the song’s final moments, where he repeats “on and on and on and on” until his voice breaks and strains. Maybe a bit melodramatic for the half-centenarian, but I personally love how much feeling he throws into the entire piece.

The previous few Atmosphere albums were released in 2019, 2020, and 2021. With things feeling fairly back to normal now, May 2023 could seem a little late for a group to release music reflecting on the mental toil of the COVID-19 pandemic. Lead single and album opener “Okay” references it directly: “I need to believe in the simulation that we’re living in, spent the whole stimulus check on some stimulants.”  But with how taxed so many of us were during that time, and likely still are now, it’s not unwarranted. And after listening to this album as much as I have in preparation for this review, I think it may have actually landed at the perfect time.

So Many Other Realities… runs through 20 songs in just over an hour, but it feels like a breezy and cohesive listen. A handful of tracks are under two minutes, like the off-kilter “Sterling,” which seems to be about Slug discovering his love of music as an escape from real life. “When the preachers and pastors speak about the rapture, I think about eating the Stratocasters.” There’s also “After Tears,” featuring Atmosphere’s labelmate and previous tour support Sa-Roc. She leads the track without any Slug vocals at all, rapping poignantly about the end of a bad relationship. Even giving a nod to the group in the closing lyrics, “So maybe I need space so I can face that which I fear, that me without you might be a vast improvement in my atmosphere. So choose your fate.”

A handful of other features are also contributors close to the Atmosphere family. Shepard Albertson delivers the chorus on “Eventide,” a general lamenting track that fits right into the Atmosphere catalog. Albertson was previously featured on “Crimson Skies” by Felt, the collaboration between Atmosphere and California rapper Murs. “Talk Talk” is a wild dance-inspired cut, potentially giving props to the ‘80s synthpop-turned-‘90s post-rock band Talk Talk. The bulk of the track is carried by Bat Flower, aka fellow Minneapolis musician Dan Monick. Monick played drums for Lifter Puller, the band Craig Finn and Tad Kubler were in together before The Hold Steady, and the namesake of “Lifter Puller” from Atmosphere’s 2003 album Seven’s Travels. Lastly, British neo-soul singer Murkage Dave provides the emotional hook on “Still Life,” one of the post-pandemic anthems on the album. Slug raps, “Poison in the well, airborne contagions, government surveillance, and home invasions. We’ve been predicting Armageddon ever since the beginning.” To no fault of Atmosphere’s, I’m a bit burnt out on the topic of “still life” in music, but due to the nature of the theme here, I think it’s pulled off very well by Atmosphere and Murkage Dave alike. This is the first time the two have crossed paths, with hopefully chances to do it again moving forward.

Ant’s production throughout the LP also shines with a mix of traditional-sounding, jazz- and soul-sampled instrumentals to totally off-the-wall electronic-driven beats that remind me of some of Paul White’s music on Danny Brown’s recent albums. “In My Head” is a highlight, with the relatively sparse production underneath echoing synths and unconventional piano stabs. It complements Slug’s distorted vocals perfectly, and his lyrics about anxiety and paranoia. Or the 6-minute penultimate track “Sculpting With Fire,” led by a baseline nearly reminiscent of the underground theme from Super Mario Bros. There are plenty of odd, space-age sound effects riddled throughout while Slug composes the final, core farewell. “When I go, I hope I go from supernatural causes. But man, I'm exhausted, it's all about how you handle your losses and whether or not you recognize that you're toxic. You're a product of putting the prophecy below the profit.” The track’s last lyric gives some context to the album title: “Let's bring it back to the original topic. It's a graham cracker, marshmallow, and some chocolate.” Those would be the ingredients to s’mores, and with a word attached to each letter, you get So Many Other Realities Exist Simultaneously. In an interview with British rap magazine UKHH, Slug says, “I named it that because I wanted to see people try and say it,” but doesn’t specifically mention why “s’mores” was his snackronym of choice.

The very end of the album is the “Okay” reprise, which I could have done with or without. I think “Sculpting With Fire” is such a strong finish to the world Atmosphere created, but reprising the opener does cleanse the palette a bit and drives home the idea of perseverance even through unpredictability. With that said, the subpar moments on So Many Other Realities are microscopic compared to how exceptional the great bulk of it is. Even closing out on another track’s coda doesn’t tarnish the hour.

Atmosphere is one of the most prolific hip-hop artists working these days (not including multi-dozen mixtape rappers), averaging about an album every two years since 1997. For any band, no matter how great, it’s pretty rare that every single release is gonna be a knockout at that rate. While I haven’t loved or listened to every single album since When Life Gives You Lemons, it’s a true accomplishment that they’re able to put out a record this captivating with this much going on in it so late in their career. And if I’ve observed Atmosphere for long enough, I don’t think we’ll have to wait too long for the next one. At least not in this reality.

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Logan Archer Mounts once almost got kicked out of Warped Tour for doing the Disturbed scream during a band’s acoustic set. He currently lives in Rolling Meadows, IL, but tells everyone he lives in Palatine.

Grave Saddles – ​​Willie Nelson Golfing Dream #3 | Single Premiere

Really Rad Records

The one-word pitch I would give for Grave Saddles is “countrygaze!” If that semi-fake combination of genres makes you think, ‘fuck yeah,’ then this one’s for you. If you appreciate a pastoral view and a cool breeze just as much as you like blowing your eardrums out to Cloakroom, then you’re in the right place. If you dig crushing riffs just as much as you love crushing brews, then this is the band for you. 

Grave Saddles represents a promise placed at the exciting middle section of these two sounds. In their music, we hear distorted shoegaze guitars that jangle, twang, and hum but also know when to sweep things up into a big, chaotic dustbowl of noise. The vocals are often crunched up and just as distorted and twangy as the guitar. The end result is a sound that fleshes out a distinct version of shoegaze that’s caked in dirt and grit like a car traveling cross-country. If you want an introduction to Grave Saddles, there’s no better time to start than right now with the goofily-named “​​Willie Nelson Golfing Dream #3.”

“​​Willie Nelson Golfing Dream #3” is a conflicted love song that finds our hero desperately trying to pin down their emotions. The only scene-setting exposition we get is an allusion to springtime, which is placed over a world-weary guitar strum. The following line immediately delves into the topic at hand while accidentally evoking mid-90s family-friendly films as the lyrics question, “What exactly is that thing you do?” 

We soon learn our narrator is “absolutely fawning” over whoever it is they’re singing about, but with that elation comes a price. The song's emotional core comes in the chorus, which lays out exactly how it feels to have found your person and then not be able to spend as much time around them as you’d like.

​​I’ve got mixed feelings about you
Making things this fun
Cuz all the times without you now drag
On and on and on

That was some real shit you just said, Grave Saddles. 

While the relationship depicted in this song seems like it’s still fresh, this type of sweeping and all-consuming love is all one could ever hope for. Time will tell how this infatuation influences the band’s songwriting going forward, but for now, I’m happy to saddle up to these emotions and commiserate with the awkward feeling of missing someone you love so dearly.

This song is just one of three that make up an EP coming later this month via Really Rad Records. If you haven’t been paying attention, Portland, Oregon’s Really Rad has been on an absolute tear. Since this time last year, they’ve put out attention-grabbing emo releases from Avec Plaisir, Celebration Guns, A Place For Owls, and Swiss Army Wife. They’ve also released the awesome Violent Picture / Violent Sound by Dosser, a “contemporary grunge band” that sits somewhere between Drug Church and Taking Meds. The label has been around since 2014 but has really started to up its game in recent years with a string of impressive releases, up to and including this new Grave Saddle EP.

While three songs might sound lightweight for an EP, anyone familiar with Grave Saddles’ last release, 2022 Tour Tape, will know just how substantive three songs can be. That tape is comprised of two pitch-perfect countrygaze songs and is capped off by a 9-minute rendition of “Minnesota” by The Mountain Goats. Those three tracks combine for a woozy listen that makes a strong case for Grave Saddles as a band and countrygaze as a concept.

The band’s latest collection of tracks is called There You Ain't and drops on May 23rd via Really Rad Records. Lead single “​​Willie Nelson Golfing Dream #3” will be available on all streaming services tomorrow. 

Ness Lake – i lean in to hear you sing / bl0ss0m | Single Premiere

SELF-released

Like many people, the first time I went to New York was an event. Not only was I going to visit the greatest city in the world for the first time at the ripe age of 28, but I was also going to visit my long-distance girlfriend and meet her family. It was a lot to take in, prep for, and look forward to. At the time, I was fresh off a Succession binge and even had my own little dorky playlist of New York-themed songs to hype myself up for the journey. I had no idea what to expect, but the trip went swimmingly. My girlfriend, a NY native, took me all over Brooklyn and Manhattan; I saw Coney Island, walked across the Brooklyn Bridge, and ate some of the best meals I’ve ever had in my life. One night I also had a drug-induced panic attack.

In a classic case of not knowing my limits, one night, I found myself wide awake at 3 am, petrified with fear, staring at the ceiling of our Air BnB as she slept soundly beside me. Physically everything was perfect and still, but the inside of my head was a panicky horror movie where I was continually experiencing my own death. Eventually, my restlessness woke her up, and I had to explain what was going on. In a moment of complete compassion and love, she put on some Yo La Tengo and sleepily talked me through another hour or so of Generally Bad Vibes until we both passed out in the early hours of the morning. 

This was a formative experience for me and not something I ever want to put myself or my partner through ever again. It was also a pivotal moment in my relationship – this person I’d only known for a few months was sweet and caring enough to talk me through this experience. It was love. 

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The newest songs from Ness Lake stem from a similar brush with the psyche that bandleader Chandler Lach experienced at the end of 2021. After experiencing the intense realization that all relationships ultimately end in either breakups or death, Lach began reflecting on the series of failed relationships that led him to this point in his life. 

Anyone that’s had even one relationship gone south can likely relate to concluding that they are the problem. Of course, every relationship (should be) 50/50, and the weight can never entirely be placed upon one person’s shoulders, but still, when one finds themselves looking back at a string of bad breakups and failed partnerships, it’s hard not to think that you are the common denominator. As Lach puts it, he grew to expect every relationship to fail and learned to avoid vulnerability in the process. 

His solution? Lean in. 

“i lean in to hear you sing” is the title track, lead single, and mantra-like sentiment that Lach has been returning to ever since that panic attack he experienced two years ago. In the wake of these personal realizations (and the dissolution of yet another relationship), he arrived at the conclusion that “leaning in” and committing is the answer. 

It’s easy to avoid intimacy, love, or a real relationship when you’re sure it’s going to fail from the outset. It’s also easy to find yourself in a “relationship” that is more emulation than truthfully sharing yourself with another person. You can feel like you’re getting all the benefits of a relationship on paper, but it’s merely a superficial checking of boxes that robs you of genuine connection. 

“i lean in to hear you sing” is a melodic and earwormy bedroom emo song with a chorus that has embedded itself deep in my brain after only a few listens. First laid out in a demo two years ago, the mind behind Ness Lake spent the intervening time returning to his own words and bringing them to life through multiple iterations, eventually culminating in this final version of the song. 

According to Lach, he and Marco Aziel (of Kiss Your Friends) spent about two years wringing the best out of these songs, thinking through every single aspect of the music, and figuring out how these sentiments could come to life visually. The music video is a kaleidoscopic swirl of colors pulled directly off the album art, all pulsating in time with the music as hand-written MS Paint lyrics guide the viewer past 3D Blender models and home video footage.

The second part of the band’s new double single is “bl0ss0m,” a tune that first appeared on an EP called marry the moon in 2021. While the first version of this song was a shaky and inward acoustic track, the newer rendition is considered and confident with electronic elements that sputter to life over the course of its three minutes. When compared to its original incarnation, “bl0ss0m” ends up being a perfect showcase for the artistic and personal growth that its creator has undergone in the intervening years. 

Similarly concerned with love and connection as its counterpart, “bl0ss0m” is about how you have to work for the beauty and love you find in your life. In Lach’s words, “If the conditions aren’t right, you have to be prepared for things to die.” Again, this song strikes upon the notion that your relationships have to be an intentional endeavor. In this way, both “i lean in to hear you sing” and “bl0ss0m” are perfect companions.  

Together these two tracks make an exciting update from Ness Lake and provide a perfect amuse-bouche for the project’s upcoming 14th album, which releases in-full next week on May 4th. Both “i lean in to hear you sing” and “bl0ss0m” will be available on all streaming services tomorrow.

Jesus Piece – ...So Unknown | Album Review

Century Media Records

There’s a spotlight on hardcore these days that is undeniable. Even if you’re only passively following the genre, it’s hard to avoid the hype. What’s interesting about this broader attention is that, historically, heavier music has been a much more underground style and therefore hasn’t typically attracted as many open eyes and ears. Nowadays, mostly thanks to TikTok and other social media, people don’t have to try as hard to discover art that falls outside the usual commercial guidelines of what is consumable and proven to sell to the masses. The combination of the “Turnstile Effect” and social media algorithms means that people who never would’ve previously considered engaging with the scene now have a foot in the door. To top it all off, there’s a virtually endless stream of live footage exposing countless bands to new audiences, maybe even more than the albums those bands release. All of this feels considered, understood, and taken into account on Jesus Piece’s heavy and determined second LP …So Unknown.

From the second the record starts, there is no breathing room. “In Constraints” kicks things off with vocalist Aaron Heard roaring the opening lines by himself for a matter of seconds before the full band stampedes in behind him, and things don’t let up once from there. Track after track, we’re beaten, pummeled, battered, and bruised by crushing riffs, thunderous drums, harrowing growls, and screams spitting pissed-off anthems of exhaustion and fighting through malaise. In all honesty, the relentlessness of it all washed over me with little effect the first few times I sat with the album. It goes hard. It goes very hard, but it didn’t connect much deeper for me at first. However, I know myself well enough to know I can be a hard sell. I have a joke amongst my friends where I claim that I don’t like movies anymore due to how picky and over convention I am. I didn’t dislike this record by any means, but something felt a bit distant. It wasn’t until I threw the album on while working out that things began to click for me a bit more.

What is apparent on …So Unknown is that Jesus Piece have written a conscious and active album that speaks directly to the crowds they’re playing to and will be playing to in the future. These crowds will range from the TikTok kids who are there because they saw a wild video online and want to experience it for themselves to 30-somethings like me who’ve always had a foot in the scene. I’m not going to front and say I throwdown in the pit. I can’t lie and claim I have a history of doing so whatsoever. I’ve been going to heavy shows since I was 14, but even in my younger days, I always admired them at arm’s length. I like a rowdy audience and a good crowd surf as much as the next guy, but the inherent violence that comes with a proper pit isn’t something I’ve felt compelled to experience firsthand. I’m content as a present observer. These songs weren’t written for me. They’re first and foremost written for the band members to expel and push themselves to darker and heavier depths, but they’re also clearly written to pop the fuck off live. These songs were written to soundtrack bodies in motion.

“FTBS” may be the best example of this, with its driving pace and call to “fuck the bullshit” if you don’t like what you’re hearing. Or take a song like “Fear of Failure,” whose sinister opening riff moves effortlessly into the crushing, doom-paced breakdown of the ending. There’s not a complacent moment on the record. Jesus Piece see what’s in front of them and are attacking it head-on. Every song needs to hit, so every song hits. The only real instance of any kind of reprieve is found in “Silver Lining,” a track that finds Heard ruminating on the deep love he has for his child. Even so, it would still be the hardest track on a lesser band’s album. 

I truly feel that any song from …So Unknown could’ve been a single, and that feels by design. There are countless Finn McKenty-types who will wax poetic about how “the album” is dead and the algorithm is capital G God these days but as much as I hate to admit it, they have a point. As a musician myself, I understand the reality of releasing music in 2023. Singles are king, but albums still matter, and it’s comforting to see a band understand and appreciate this. …So Unknown offers a tight 28 minutes of hardcore, and while it can feel a bit one note at times, it really grew on me even in the short time I’ve spent with it, and I am glad I gave it the time and space to do so. Putting this record into the context of physical movement really amplified my experience and has made me eager to witness it the way it was intended - in a room surrounded by a few hundred people all climbing over each other and screaming, “FUCK THE BULLSHIT!”

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Christian Perez is a member of the band Clot and is always trying his best to exist gently.