Ratboys – The Window | Album Review

Topshelf Records

There is a moment I love from Ratboys’ debut album AOID, on their song “Charles Berenstein.” Amidst a song about love and confusion, the instrumentals suddenly switch to a waltzy three-four time signature for a measure or two, with an ascending bass line imbuing the piece with a bouncy and breezy, almost jazzy, feeling. It’s a bold move; a sudden musical change like this could feel abrupt and out of place, but Ratboys pulled it off, making it sound sealed and solid. I love this moment because it’s cool and makes me want to dance, but also because you can feel the whole group perfectly operating as a unit. 

For a band that has felt so coherent and solid from their debut, it is hard to imagine improvement. Yet Ratboys have continued to surpass themselves, with each record outdoing the last in style and emotive depth. The Window, their fifth and latest record, is the culmination of this stunning growth, with the band writing all songs together for the first time. It also marks the first time the band has recorded an album outside of Chicago, which struck me as curious since the record carries a quintessentially Chicago flavor, that specific jaunty and reckless strain of indie rock. Instead, the songs were recorded in Seattle with producer Chris Walla, known for his involvement in the band Death Cab for Cutie, who pushed the band to expand their repertoire while leaving the Chicago sound intact. Described by frontwoman Julia Steiner as a “dedicated and intentional process,” the songs were written and rehearsed for two years before seeing the light of production.

Right from the opening track, the composition and energy diverge from the rest of the band’s repertoire while maintaining the ethos of tenderness that has characterized their music from their earliest releases. Throughout the album, grungy, garage-rock-inflected motifs veer into power pop and country-folk territory, and the songs feature lyrics ranging from punchy and defiant to grim and reflective. The band even leans into goofy horror aesthetics in the record’s smash lead single “It’s Alive!” which continues the record’s window theme while also articulating a particular kind of American ennui: “I feel it all, frozen in my house / All around, it’s in the stars / It’s speeding towards the sign.” There is even a brief fiddle featured on “Morning Zoo,” showing the magic of their bold new songwriting experiments.

Lead single “Black Earth, WI,” is almost nine minutes in length and features a transcendental guitar solo that evokes a different time in rock and roll history when guitar solos were treated with a different kind of attention and reverence. More rollicking garage rock fun adorns “Crossed That Line” and “Empty,” with gutsy energy creating a noisy but endlessly danceable groove. The fuzzy guitars propel Steiner’s vocals to ethereal heights. The lyrics on these songs would feel snotty if they weren’t so confident: “Get it? I got it / It’s not what I wanted / it’s fucking dumb.” This young feeling of rebellion revived suffuses other songs, as in “No Way,” where Steiner sings, “I’ll take a penny for your thoughts, and I’ll throw it straight to hell / There’s no way you’ll control me again.”

The album’s title track carries a smashing rock effect, which belies the stunningly intimate lyrics about the death of Steiner’s grandmother in June of 2020. According to Steiner, protections from the COVID-19 pandemic dictated that the family had to say their goodbyes through an open window in her grandmother’s nursing home, unable to be physically close. Steiner notes that many of the lyrics in the song come from quotes her grandfather said to her grandmother through the window: “I need to tell you everything / before it’s too late / That I don’t regret a single day / And you’re so beautiful.” The song is so upbeat and catchy it is almost impossible to cry, striking an energetic tone amidst a reflection on grief and change.

Closing out the record, “Bad Reaction” is the final jewel in the crown. Following the diversely uptempo offerings of the other songs, “Bad Reaction” stands in partial contrast to the busy and ambitious sonic textures of the other songs, with poignant and spare composition. The quieter sound makes the sincerity of the song all the more meaningful and shows that Ratboys can do more than crash and crush. The emotions of the song feel achingly clear and present, to me at least, my heartstrings pulled as Steiner’s clear voice asks, “What’s the one thing you love / what’s the one thing you love / what’s the one thing you love now?” Although I have never driven a car fast in reverse, as Steiner sings, I feel a profound sense of relatability with the song, which carries a certain hallowed resonance I struggle to describe. Perhaps it is simply the keen pain of a singular longing. Either way, it captures the peculiarly unhappy feeling of being young and listless in America with a haunting specificity that also feels universal. 

Such a wide range of sounds and emotions could sound disjointed with any other band at the helm, but Ratboys manage to make it sound cohesive and solid, a confident execution of a bold artistic vision. The Window showcases a band’s growth and documents their lineage within a specific indie scene. They are at once omnivorous and ambitious, cheeky and contemplative, salty and sweet.


Elizabeth is a neuroscience researcher in Chicago. She writes about many things—art, the internet, apocalyptic thought, genetically modified mice–on her substack handgun.substack.com. She is from Northern Nevada.

Broken Record – Nothing Moves Me | Album Review

Really Rad Records

“What do you do / When the void fills you? /
A steady flow of vacant thoughts / The sum of which is nil.”

The internal Swim Into The Sound upcoming release doc listed Broken Record’s Nothing Moves Me as “Sunny Day Real Estate + The Cure = Stadium emo.” Despite being an English teacher, this equation made immediate sense and piqued my curiosity.

I feel the need to express that this is not going to be a typical review. It’s not that this album’s music is not worth talking about in the stereotypical “awesome #toanz, dude” manner (the #toanz are indeed awesome, dude). As a music listener, however, I am drawn first toward how all of the instruments and vocals sound in concert with one another. Nothing Moves Me showcases lyrics that, funnily enough, move me and push me as both a music fan and critic.  

For some more context, I am a person who struggles with depression. Right around when I received the press stream of Nothing Moves Me, I was prescribed Lexapro. At first, it felt like a godsend. Spring and then summer wore on, and my partner confirmed something I had suspected: the prescription muted me and my world. Everything felt evenly mediocre. After a while, everything feeling mediocre starts to suck. I would rather experience the ups and downs.

It was during this period of medication that I played Nothing Moves Me over and over again. Regardless of my personal state, this is certifiably catchy emo. There are hooks on hooks and beautiful harmonies in every track, especially in singles “Weightless,” “Blueprinting,” and “See It Through.” These three songs buoy the record's first half with exciting second-wave emo sounds, the intro to “See It Through” almost sounds like it's referencing Taking Back Sunday’s “Cute Without the ‘E’ (Cut From the Team).”

Beyond hooks, the band excels with track sequencing. “Weightless” opens up into a spacey bridge that seamlessly meanders into “Round 2,” the epic six-plus-minute track. As a Jimmy-Eat-World-album-closer nerd, singer-guitarist Lauren Beecher, guitarist Matt Dunne, bassist Corey Fruin, and drummer Nick Danes are appealing directly to me. (Dear Broken Record: please explore this anthemic, slowcore-leaning sound more on your next release.)

What impresses me most, though, is the use of production and composition to enhance those hooks. Opener “Nothing Moves Me” begins with driving a dirty, driving bass line that trickles into a tight song with a contrasting, clean, right-panned arpeggiated guitar. The first song on the album showcases just how great a band Broken Record are; the following 32 minutes are a cherry on top.

“What about the lyrics, Joe?” is what you should be asking right now.

Now weaning myself off Lexapro, Nothing Moves Me hits differently. The reverb-rich and chorus-laden production makes the album sound underwater, which is how I feel when I am in the throes of a rough depressive period. Then there is the album’s cover, which features a skeleton sitting in the shade rather than the sun. Hell, the title is Nothing Moves Me. All this context pushed me to engage more deeply with the lyrics, and the epiphany was confirmed: this is an album about depression. The songs are not necessarily hiding this message; my world was just too grayed out to see it. The theme of depression permeates every track, but personal favorites include “Runner’s Digest” (“But I can’t fake / away the shame / I’m sick of empty hope / and consolation prizes”) and “Vacuum Tube Supplies” (the whole dang song).

Broken Record’s Nothing Moves Me is an important album not only for the upstart Colorado band but for all listeners, those contending with mental health issues or not. The sophomore effort solidifies Broken Record as incumbent torchbearers for both the genre, and for those wrestling with a void inside themselves, myself included. While it is one thing to create an incredible piece of art like Nothing Moves Me, it is another thing entirely to speak to and validate a population of people typically misunderstood for their behaviors and attitudes. Broken Record make doing both look easy.


Joe Wasserman lives with his partner and their dogs in Brooklyn. When he’s not listening to music, he plays bass in bands, writes stories, and releases music as After School Special. You can find him on Twitter at @a_cuppajoe.

Funeral Homes – Double Vision | Video Premiere

As an artist, you can’t always choose what people’s first impression of you will be. This is the logic behind singles and music videos: to try and craft an intentional string of encounters that build off each other, transforming someone from a prospective listener into a fully-fledged fan. In the age of streaming, TikTok, and instant access, this experience is harder for artists to have any control over. Even in the ever-splintered media landscape of 2023, a good music video has the power to give viewers an understanding of what makes a band unique. Funeral Homes know this and have put their best foot forward with their new video for “Double Vision.”

Funeral Homes is a Jacksonville-based Shoegaze band that started as the solo project of Sofia Poppert. After a string of singles and contributions to compilations, Funeral Homes released their first long-form articulation in 2019 with Lavender House, a seven-song collection that leaned more towards the heavy end of emo than overt shoegaze. Fast forward a few years, and 2022’s Blue Heaven is a fully-fledged LP with some of the most beautiful, catchy, and haunting shoegaze songs I’ve heard in years. 

The album’s lead single, “Double Vision,” is the rare case where a shoegaze song is able to rise out of its own genre trappings into something completely unique. Even within Blue Heaven, “Double Vision” comes after the lovelorn midtempo trod of “Before You Leave,” a sad song about heavy topics like separation and abandonment. Then, one song later, here comes this bounding, thumpy track that deploys a vicious amount of whammy bar and a riff that makes you want to catapult into nearby concertgoers. “Double Vision” melds shoegaze and noise pop with just a little bit of pop-punk pep, charging forward for an unrelenting two minutes before dumping you back into reality.

The video for “Double Vision” is a dizzying spin around the band’s practice space as a fisheye lens rotates through every member rocking out (and getting different fits off) until the song’s final moments. Since the group previously consisted only of Poppert, this video acts both as an unveiling of the full lineup and as a way to package up one of the band’s best songs into an entry point for prospective listeners. 

For those that journey into the rest of the album, you’ll be treated to hypnotic dream states, twilight musings, and hypnagogic revelations. The 44 minutes Funeral Homes have laid out on Blue Heaven ring out with sticky riffs, dense fuzz, and far-off vocals disguised in an alluring shroud of haze. The whole thing merges into this dreamy blue wall of noise that positions Funeral Homes as part of a promising wave of Florida-gaze bands like Rosewilder and Gravess. With any luck, the video for “Double Vision” will lead hordes of new fans into Funeral Homes’ gorgeous, humid, and heavy corner of the world.

Dim Wizard – X-Games Mode | Single Review

Self-Released

I cannot tell you the last time it was that I picked up a skateboard and popped an ollie or landed a shuvit. Now that I’m 30 and it truly means nothing to me, my memory wanes as to whether I actually landed a kickflip like I bragged to some attractive women in college. Not to kill my ego, but I probably didn’t. That being said, I would’ve burned a hole in the flash memory of my iPod Nano listening to Dim Wizard’s “X-Games Mode” on repeat while slamming the deck into my shins.

The latest collaboration from Bad Moves’ David Combs and illuminati hotties’ Sarah Tudzin features garage power-popper Mike Krol and Ratboys’ Julia Steiner on vocals. Distorted and compressed to a chaotic hell, “X-Games Mode'' is just plain fun. Combs and Tudzin’s earworm songwriting and musicianship are complemented by Krol and Steiner’s cool deliveries to create a track that evokes nostalgia while also feeling new. Because of that, “X-Games Mode” immediately feels timeless in the best way.

Although my skating days are well behind me, the single’s catchy chiptune elements and swirling guitar riffs make for the perfect soundtrack to play Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater (or, for a true X-Games mode, Skate) with your friends. If we play at your house, I’ll bring the forties.


Joe Wasserman lives with his partner and their dogs in Brooklyn. When he’s not listening to music, he plays bass in bands, writes stories, and releases music as After School Special. You can find him on Twitter at @a_cuppajoe.

Sinai Vessel – Tangled | Single Review

Self-Released

Wednesday… MJ Lenderman… Indigo De Souza. Within the last few years, the Asheville music scene has been absolutely overflowing with incredible art, and it’s time we talk about it. Having been to Asheville exactly once in my life, I’m sure it’s always been that way, but it wasn’t until recently that the town has found itself on the lips of every music blog and indie kid with a penchant for twang and slide guitar. Beneath the Dead Oceans/ANTI-/Saddle Creek tier of rising rockstars are lowkey hidden gems like Sluice and Broken Family – somewhere between these is Sinai Vessel.

Sinai Vessel is the formerly emo, now folksy indie rock band of Caleb Cordes and an artist that I’ve personally brought up in conversation with some of Asheville’s best. The project first wound up on my radar back in 2020 with the jaw-dropping LP Ground Aswim, which wound up being one of my favorites of the year. Even as an election and the pandemic suspended the world into a dizzying stasis, I found time to sit with Ground Aswim and find peace in its calming shores. Cordes, in turn, took the time to give his album the love it deserved. One Bandcamp Friday, fans were treated to a solitary track-for-track demo version of the album and, later, a 2019 live performance showcasing early versions of select songs. Both of these collections rendered the original album in a new light and, when played in proximity, let the listener in on both Cordes’ creative process and the evolution of these songs. Ground Aswim was immortalized on vinyl, cassettes, and a zine, all released independently, nothing short of a feat in the increasingly monopolized music landscape. One year later, Cordes made his final statement on this body of work with “Swimming,” a single-song coda that marked a definitive end to this sprawling collection of songs. 

At the end of 2021, Cordes released a handful of tracks on SoundCloud plainly labeled “LP4 Demos.” Expectantly sparse and surprisingly stark, these five songs offered a workshop-like glimpse at what was coming next for the project. By releasing these songs publicly, Cordes also continued the trend of letting the listener in on his songwriting process, this time seemingly as it was happening. Now, a year and a half later, we have “Tangled,” the first real taste of what the future holds for Sinai Vessel.

The track begins with a bouncy acoustic sway that feels like a natural extension of the guitar-based LP4 Demos we’ve already heard. The first thing this instrumental reminded me of was the bright, sunny tone of the last Hovvdy album, which wound up being an apt comparison when I learned that the song was produced and engineered by Bennett Littlejohn, known for his recent work with Hovvdy, Katy Kirby, and Claire Rousay.

Cordes wastes no time jumping into things, singing, “sitting around and waiting / waiting to get fired.” Whether fueled by self-doubt, the worry we’ve done something wrong, or just anxiety from the increasingly unstable teeter-totter of capitalism, this is a looming sense of dread we’ve all probably experienced at some point in our professional careers. It’s funny and apropos because this is something I’ve felt acutely in recent weeks as my day job has slowed to a crawl, and I’ve felt less productive than I have all year. Perhaps it’s just summer doldrums, but to hear such a specific worry reflected back at me felt very cosmic and well-timed.

The lyrics go on to depict the relationship between mind and body, talking about how one informs the other but can sometimes relay or retain the wrong thing. From there, the third verse delves into the messiness of modern communication and misinterpretation, while the final lines articulate a unique brand of self-inflicted paranoia. The back half of the song touches on this rush of topics and wraps up mid-beat in a way that leaves you on the edge of your seat, waiting to hear what comes next. Cordes offers no solution to these problems, at least not on this song, but “Tangled” sure does an excellent job of making the listener's worries feel heard. 

By depicting this messy web of concerns, both real and imagined, Cordes lets them all float out of his mind and into the ether. We live in an era of intersecting apocalypses, and sometimes it can feel like tearing yourself apart just trying to figure out what to focus on. No one person has all the answers, but we do have each other, and while these aren’t all problems that can be “solved,” the first step towards tackling any of them is to lay them all out, just as Sinai Vessel does over the course of these three minutes. We’ll figure out what comes next together.