Water Damage – In E | Album Review

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12XU

Water Damage make music that feels like it was concocted in a tonal laboratory exclusively for me. Their core discography up to this point has spanned five songs between two albums, 2022’s self-descriptive Repeater and 2023’s quantifiably titled 2 Songs. Their mantra is simple: “Maximal repetition. Minimal deviation.” The ever-rotating collective creates murky, album-side-length tracks that zone in on a singular riff or groove and ride it until it mutates or decays. They employ tactics that draw me so heavily to bands like Seattle’s drone-country legends Earth or Japan’s “underground freak out” collective Acid Mothers Temple. I’m no geography expert, but somewhere between Seattle and Japan must lie Austin, Texas, the home base for the members of Water Damage. The band appears to be the next installment of an already-incestuous scene of musicians, some of whom are already spread across fellow 12XU artists like Spray Paint and USA/Mexico. Most notably, Water Damage features multi-instrumentalist Thor Harris, who has played with Shearwater, Swans, and Xiu Xiu, among many others. The band’s first two albums were made in a seven-piece permutation, but they’ve now grown to ten members strong for their latest release, the massive double album In E.

Other than the semi-eponymous track titles (“Reel E,” “Reel EE,” and “Reel EEE”), the album title is a nod to Terry Riley’s 1964 landmark composition In C, one of the most celebrated works in experimental music. Unreleased until 1968, the initial In C performance and recording is a hypnotic, minimalist piece of neo-classical layers and rhythms. In C's first cut was made up of eleven players, with Riley’s orchestra featuring such avant-garde pioneers as Pauline Oliveros and Steve Reich, though Riley is quoted as suggesting, “a group of about 35 musicians is desired if possible.” In C has been re-interpreted by many experimental artists, from the aforementioned Acid Mothers Temple to the Swiss industrial cult group The Young Gods. It’s precisely the type of root that a band like Water Damage is well suited to pull from, being a relatively large band obsessed with long-winded, single-key grooves.

The only composition named differently is the closer “Ladybird,” which has featured performance and writing credits by Water Damage-associated band Shit & Shine. It actually is a minor break from the rest of the album’s mold, with the grounding riff being an E to F bent repetition. It’s also Water Damage’s first song to feature vocals, as garbled and affected as they are, but it was refreshing to hear them throw some new sounds at the listener after listening to an hour’s worth of intentionally consistent music.

It’s amusing to think about there being a “single” from this album; I suppose a better term may be “teaser,” although if The Decemberists can kick off their album rollout with a 19-minute, Wilco-aping prog-folk number, then Water Damage certainly has the capability and freedom to let “Reel E” be the “hit” off of this record. There’s a rich history of opening tracks on leftfield albums becoming genre staples: “Hallogallo” from the self-titled NEU! debut comes to mind, or more recently, “John L” by black midi off Cavalcade. “Reel E” isn’t too far from standard Water Damage fare, and is exactly what I come to the band to get: a swirling lo-fi jam with subtle progressions until its finish. The main noticeable change from last year’s 2 Songs is that the violin is featured much more prominently, almost like a lead instrument, whereas their previous recordings seemed to use it as an accent. Additionally, the presence of three extra members is clearly identifiable. These tracks have just that extra ounce of big room collaboration to them that round out the band’s sound even more than the first two albums.

The second song, “Reel EE,” anchors itself to a steady bass riff before angry beehive-sounding guitars explode around the three-and-a-half-minute mark. Their thick tone allows for lots of screeching feedback to compliment the track. From that point on, it’s non-stop, head-bobbing, heavy psych. It’s almost like a slightly friendlier version of The Dead C, another pioneering noise rock outfit known for their elongated recordings.

Finally, there's “Reel EEE,” and at this point, I could see some listeners considering tapping out. Water Damage does not make conventional music for conventional people, it’s one of the things that makes them one of my favorite bands of the decade. But even I’ll admit that is a lot of the key of E to handle in one sitting. I remember the only time I saw Sleep in concert and thinking, “Man, I love drop C tuning, but these motherfuckers REALLY love drop C tuning.” Despite the common anti-melodic structure between each track on In E, Water Damage serves identifiable flavors per reel. “Reel EEE” lives in ¾ time and relies more on that entrancing rhythm than it does squealingly heavy guitars or tons of feedback.

In E is a welcome addition to the Water Damage catalog, as it retains the energy of their first two albums while still trying a new challenge, aiming for an over 80-minute runtime. It may not be particularly exciting to those with short attention spans, but if you’re willing to be roped into their singularly notated world, it’s a high-rewarding listening experience. Here’s to hoping their next record is three LPs worth of entirely noteless instruments.

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.

Kill Gosling – Waster | EP Review

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We’re Trying Records

My first sentence for this piece was supposed to be something to the effect of "I'm writing this review at a Kill Gosling show," but I got too caught up watching the set, and that sentence wound up being the only thing I wrote down. 

So instead, I'm writing this a few weeks after the last time I saw Kill Gosling, a Columbus-based band who are increasingly hard to pin down. A year ago, I would've described them as a pop-punk band; six months ago, I would have said ‘emo riff powerhouse.’ Pulling back to that recent performance, vocalist Chandler let the crowd know that they were about to see 20 to 30 minutes of "normal rock music," and even that still feels inaccurate to me. Over the past two years, I've had the privilege to witness and share the stage with Kill Gosling, and during that time, the scope of their sound has only increased. I walk away from every set positive that they've outdone themselves, and I'm not sure I've ever been wrong about that. 

Today sees the release of Waster, the band's second EP and their most fully realized effort to date. With thick, dense sound recorded by guitarist Violet Eadie and production courtesy of booked-and-busy scene vet Will Killingsworth, this feels like one of the most monumental emo-adjacent records of the year. Not only does this release feel like it accurately captures the qualities I’ve noticed in Kill Gosling after taking in countless gigs, but the whole thing just barely fits under 10 minutes. The band doesn't waste a second, kicking off with a blink-and-you-'ll-miss-it drum fill leading straight into verse one of “Bobby Hobby,” making for a floaty doo-wop-style opener that's in and out with two verses, two choruses, and a solo in less than a minute and a half. 

They don't let up after this, either - highlights include lead single “Cow Tools,” a Far Side-referencing track that, in the same minute and a half, takes a fast punk beat and reflects on friends, sobriety and “talking about the bands we hate” (I’m praying I’m not counted here) before leading into some guitar shredding and screamed vocals. Diversity in vocal performance is one of the biggest upgrades this record brings, from the bratty Billie Joe Armstrong-esque sneers on “Forget” to the chorused, yearning backing tracks on tracks like “Impatient” and “Untitled.” The instrumentals get their time to shine, too - “Forget” sports the tightest rhythm section performances I’ve heard from a rock band all year, and flourishes on “Hobby” and “Selfish” showcase just how talented the group all are individually.  

Despite the modest “normal rock music” tag, Kill Gosling is a band that knows what they’re doing and know how to do it well. With a sound that’s both familiar and hard to quite nail with one description, sometimes it can get hard to explain what exactly you’re in for with them.  Doing my best here, though: Waster is easily one of the best post-hardcore-rock-emo-pop-indie-shoegaze-punk-wave-core records you’re gonna find all year.  

Rohan Rindani is a writer and musician based in Columbus, OH covering DIY music, non-DIY music, and whatever else they want to, really. They’re also in a few bands. You can send them money, job offers, and praise via email, and look at them on Instagram. You can also find them on Twitter or at a show if you know where to look.

Heavenly Blue – We Have The Answer | Album Review

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Secret Voice / Deathwish Inc.

Humanity’s search for an “answer” is a tale as old as time, with the ever-present desire to find meaning in life occupying the thoughts of countless people every day. Despite living in a world where everyone is closely connected through the means of the internet, feelings of isolation are as prevalent as ever, made worse by a global pandemic that was allowed to thrive in a dehumanizing system that continues to grow unabated. On We Have The Answer, Heavenly Blue embodies those feelings of isolation track after track, while the band also offers insight to what might be the only thing that can heal us – building true community.

We Have The Answer is Heavenly Blue’s first full-length release, but it feels much more like a culmination than a debut – in the best possible way. Some of the album’s tracks originated in the band Youth Novel, as detailed in Swim Into The Sound’s recent interview with Heavenly Blue’s guitarist Maya Chun and bassist Jon Riley. The songs here are refined, drawing on a range of 2000s screamo and post-hardcore influences to create something that sounds new and exciting. Fans of bands like Orchid, Funeral Diner, and Pg. 99 will find plenty to enjoy, along with some slightly broader influences like Converge, The Fall of Troy, and Thursday.

These 11 tracks cover a wide range of emotions, balancing chaotic aggression with more melodic sections, often within the same song. A perfect example of this dichotomy is “Certain Distance,” the longest track on the record, which features stretches of light and airy guitar interplay to break up the unrelenting force of the rest of the song. The music is accompanied by poetic lyrics similar in style to the previously mentioned Orchid, serving as one of the lighter songs on the album.

What is this impersonal plea?
I know who I am in a pinch.
I by design shatter, untwine
I stumble back and fall out again
On my own

That song gives way to “Static Voices Speak To Me,” the album’s first single. The track is short and sweet, with a catchy hook that’s rare to come by in the genre and shows the breadth of styles Heavenly Blue is taking inspiration from. It’s easy to picture crowds of screamo kids in basements and small clubs singing along to the chorus here, and the song has a sweetness that stands out amid all the aggression. “Static Voices Speak To Me” is one of the album’s highlights, serving as a stark example of the duality of despair and hope that define these songs.

Heavenly Blue’s rhythm section keeps the record moving swiftly, with the percussion on “A Part Of Me, A Part Of You” standing out as another high point. The song moves at a breakneck pace, with the frenetic drums adding an infectious energy that elevates everything else. Once again, the band straddles the line between melody and discord before transitioning to “Looming,” possibly the heaviest piece on the album. In front of blazingly heavy riffs, the band’s two vocalists take turns belting out lyrics that are fittingly grim.

I'm looming, I'm flaying, I'm hemorrhaging my time
I'm bleeding, flailing, my words all want for knives

Next is the penultimate track of We Have The Answer, “Heat Death Parade.” Here, the band slows things down at first with an intro reminiscent of something you’d hear on City of Caterpillar’s classic 2002 self-titled release. Things continue to build from there, with dual vocalists Juno Parsons and Mel Caren joined by pulsating guitars until the song culminates in a satisfying post-rock zenith. The final track, “All Of The Pieces Break,” picks up where “Heat Death Parade” leaves off, featuring a dreamy guitar melody interrupted by a heavy, repeating riff. This leads to a fittingly energetic finale for the album before it all comes to an abrupt stop.

Mixed and partially recorded by the band’s own Maya Chun, the production on We Have The Answer is clear without sounding overly polished for the genre. With layers of distorted guitar tracks winding in and out of each song, it’s easy to envision how muddled this album could sound. Instead, everything has space to breathe – except for the moments that offer cascading walls of sound as the band builds up to the album’s emotional high points.

Despite the carryovers from Youth Novel, the name change is appropriate, as the finished product sounds very distinct from the band’s previous incarnation. Though they are relatively recent arrivals on the scene, the last several years have seen the band build momentum by playing some higher-profile shows, including opening for Touché Amoré and playing New Friends Fest in 2023. In their short time as a band, Heavenly Blue has built tight bonds with other bands like Frail Body and earned support from names like Touche Amore’s Jeremy Bolm, who runs the Deathwish Inc. imprint Secret Voice, which put out We Have The Answer. The screamo genre seems to be on the rise again, and Heavenly Blue is carving out their position in the latest wave.

In speaking with members of the band and reading past interviews, it’s clear that they’re intent on building or maintaining the community aspect of DIY music. Though the music is often dark, there is still a feeling of hope underneath the surface, tied directly to the band’s focus on that community. The songs on We Have The Answer offer catharsis for the many frustrations of our current social climate, but, as promised, Heavenly Blue offers an answer. Even when music serves as a release for feelings of hopelessness, it creates bonds between people. There are moments of beauty in life, but they only come through building genuine connections with others. Make art, have conversations, and be mindful. We live in bleak times, but through our connections to each other, it is possible to build a better future.

Nick Miller is a freelance writer from Ypsilanti, Michigan, primarily writing about the world of professional wrestling. He also enjoys playing music, reading, tabletop RPGs, and logging Letterboxd entries (AKA watching movies). You can find him on X at @nickmiller4321 or on Instagram at @nickmiller5678.

ther – godzilla | Album Review

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Julia’s War

I’m glad that Godzilla hasn’t attacked yet. The day-to-day takes enough out of us that we don’t need a Kaiju-sized monkey wrench thrown into the fray to make us shiver with exhaustion, tremble with hope, gaze with fearful awe. If there are giant monsters hiding beneath the waves, waiting to fulfill their roles as harbingers of humanity’s comeuppance, we’ve managed to create enough pain on our own that their aid hasn’t been necessary. It must be disappointing to feel so useless. Fortunately, Godzilla has always made a better symbol than destroyer.

Philadelphia’s Heather Jones, who writes and records as ther, excavates multitudes on their third LP in as many years. Ambiguity proves to be a perennial obsession in Jones’s songwriting, recurring not from a pursuit of musical both-sideism, but from lived experience and constant introspection. Nearly everything is out of our control, and it’s terrifying. Facing reality’s reverie of expectant horror rarely feels any other way. Jones implores us not to succumb to our paralysis and let it fuel our action.

godzilla reunites and rearranges the band of Philly fixtures from 2023’s a horrid whisper echoes in a palace of endless joy, orienting the instrumental palette and mixing familiar colors into new blends. Guitars spark to the forefront and land with a tidal wave of distortion. They may be newly louder and sometimes slower, but no less deliberate. Saxophone and cello appear like streaks in the sky, passing behind clouds as they placate the sun and moon. A capital-R riff is rarely the focus, but Jones and company infuse strange geometry into songs like “matthew,” letting a jagged melody cut through, grounding their anxious Biblical reflections. 

Photo by Heather Jones

Holiness isn’t delivered through scripture and sermons; Jones instead places it within the ostensibly mundane. God isn’t a hand that refuses to save until we beg for redemption. It’s in the breeze gushing through the quiet light bathing our faces (“a wish”). You can hear it in a bloodstained dog’s howls, overcome by visceral, soulless dread as it takes a cat’s life; or in the moon’s patient voice, dictating an unexpected reply (“moon ruby”). On the folky mid-LP exhale of “advil,” the consequences of a fist thrown in childhood anger paint a bluntly honest truth.

No amount of saying sorry ever made things right,
Forgiveness is a thing you earn after work and over time
And a leap that’s divine

Caverns are built around little truths — the break of day is miraculous, we’re all a bit fucked, death isn’t the end but remains an ending. godzilla’s miracle is revealed in the way that newly-acquired noise coexists with the minutiae. Like the work of Mark Rothko, all-consuming color seen from a distance reveals a topography of crags and contours up close. The balance holding every searing melody or hushed lyric together isn’t lost as they spiderweb into each other. Songs unfold with emtpiness, springtime periwinkles playing coy, never betraying the cacophony that could erupt in their final moments.

Perhaps the best example of this is “a pale horse ha ha ha ha.” Reinvented from a 2019 single, the band crafts a dirge refusing to deny the absurdity, comedy, and contradiction inherent in life itself and responds to death’s anticipated arrival in the only appropriate manner — laughing out loud. A joke shared with a knowing companion as she guides us along the Jersey turnpike feels like a more honest outcome than blissful dissolution or cold darkness. The band synchronizes their wanderings through a maze of forgotten lost-and-found truths. Jones and keyboardist Veronica Manger laugh in raptured harmony, swept away by uncertain grace and fuzzy chords. Waiting at the end is a figure dressed perhaps a bit like this, offering familiarity, a ride out of town, and no answers.

godzilla knocks firmly on the door, asking to be let in regardless of what lies behind: life, nothing, or a 400-foot monster. Jones carefully unravels the cocoon, one thread at a time, to reveal a shimmering heart, more like a distorted mirror than a revelation. There isn’t going to be a grand proclamation, a volcanic exit, or a flaming chariot in the sky. The sun will set and rise and set again, and we’ll keep holding onto what we cherish. That time you stayed up way too late with a friend, drinking soda and playing video games even though their parents told you not to, is infinitely more precious than anything heaven could say. Gravity will pull you inward, but you’ve learned to resist.

Aly Muilenburg lives in Minneapolis, Minnesota, where she writes, records, sends emails, and more for Ear Coffee, a DIY podcast and media “entity” that she co-founded. Her writing can be found online or underground, and she can be found at home or @purityolympics.

Claire Rousay – sentiment | Album Review

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Thrill Jockey Records

A candid voice message is the first thing a person hears when they put on Claire Rousay’s sentiment - placing the listener in a certain headspace and preparing them for the album they are about to hear. During this message, the phrase “letter to the universe” is used: an expression that feels like it captures the album as a whole: a no-holds-barred confessional work that serves, at times, as an expansive yet intimate slice of life. 

Listening to Rousay can feel like eavesdropping on a conversation you’re not supposed to hear. These ten tracks showcase our narrator’s inner thoughts in a quietly chaotic yet beautiful atmosphere. Rousay shepherds the listener through these thoughts with brutal honesty that can make them laugh, either out of humor or discomfort, or cry. It highlights the true human nature that comes as a person wrestles with emotions. 

This is something I experienced firsthand when I saw Rousay perform in Cincinnati last year. At that time, I didn’t have much experience watching drone/ambient artists live. I hoped her music would sound as massive as it does on her recordings. Across her discography, Rousay has a knack for building unique and specific worlds through her pieces, whether it’s a sprawling, 20+ minute narrative or a 2.5-minute straight-forward pop song. 

As I do at most shows, I stood toward the back and “surrendered to the flow,” but the overwhelming nature of Rousay’s performance forced me to sit on the floor. It felt like a religious experience, evoking some of the same emotional reactions that worship songs bring as they build to a climax. 

At the end of the hour-long set, I was in a kind of shock, feeling emotionally drained and moved at the same time. I was in awe of how Rousay could make everyone in the crowd feel connected and on the same playing field. Live music is an important part of my life - from first being exposed to it through weekly church services to now seeing multiple shows a month throughout the Midwest. While I get something out of every performance I witness, it’s less often that I sit back after the fact, reflecting on the majesty of what I witnessed hours, days, weeks, or even years later, realizing that what transpired on that particular night would never happen again. 

Like her live show, sentiment brings unabashed honesty and emotion in droves. Rousay uses her lyrics, as well as the music behind them, to convey a series of conflicting emotions. Through this, she brings human reality to the forefront by speaking honestly about how inner thoughts can overtake a person’s perspective, even during the best times. She speaks on how life can be nice on paper but can be marred by a darkness that makes its blatant presence known. 

That conflict can be quite relatable to the overall human experience, one that can sometimes feel uncomfortable to hear spoken out loud. I don’t think there’s a better example of this than the intro to the album, “4pm.” The spoken word track, featuring the talents of Theodore Cale Schafer, highlights the emotional thought process of what it’s like to be alone and discarded amid success. In real-time, over the song’s three minutes, the positive things happening in the narrator’s life - even the parts of life that are considered a dream come true - are dismissed, bringing that darkness front and center. 

This is hard to express for many people. Some may see the positive developments in a person’s life and not understand why they feel the way they are. This causes them to keep those dark thoughts to themselves. 

I am writing this on my iPhone, and can already tell that this text will either end up sounding like a suicide note or like some pathetic attempt at ‘being real.’

Throughout the album, this conflict is expressed multiple times: no matter how much effort is put into life - whether it’s a relationship or just the day-to-day stuff - that darkness remains. “I’m just going to fuck things up anyway,” as she starts the song “Asking For It.” 

To avoid the hurt that could come from being open and vulnerable, a facade can form, causing a person to approach relationships and the day-to-day with a “fake it until you make it” approach. Rousay touches on this subject in the song “lover’s spit plays in the background.” At one point in the Broken Social Scene-referencing song, Rousay sings…

trying to convince everyone
that im ok
when i am not
fucking ok

Through its various iterations, emo music allows musicians, artists, and people to convey their innermost thoughts in a confessional manner for others who believe no one understands how they are truly feeling. 

In the past, Rousay has dubbed her music “emo ambient,” a phrase that perfectly encapsulates this album. Through sentiment and her entire body of work, Rousay uses her platform to highlight real emotions, focusing on what most go through as part of the human experience: relationships and love. 

No matter how big or small that feeling of darkness is during a given time, all Rousay wants, and what we all want, is to be loved and connect with others. The album ends with Rousay pleading how much she wants to hear that sentiment reciprocated toward her. “It’s okay if it’s not true,” Rousay’s song “ily2” featuring Hand Habits begins. “Just say it like you mean it… I’m easy to convince.” 

sentiment serves as a level-up for Rousay, musically and emotionally. With this album, Rousay is taking the approach she brought to other releases, from the ambient masterpiece “sometimes i feel like i have no friends” to the more pop sensibilities of Never Stop Texting Me, and continuing to convey that honesty and emotion through a cohesive and compelling piece of work. 

What makes Rousay’s music stand out is that instead of a person coming to her, she comes to the listener. Through her music, she finds a way to relate to wherever they’re at. Her songs make what they feel valid and important. They bring normalcy to those complicated and conflicting emotions every human goes through, even though a person may think no one else feels the way they do. 

Isn’t that what emo music is all about?

David Gay got into journalism to write about music but is now writing news and political articles for a living in Indiana. However, when he got the chance to jump back into the music world, he took it. David can be found on Twitter and Instagram at @DavidGayNews. (Just expect a lot of posts about jam bands.)