Pinkshift's Music Video for “i’m gonna tell my therapist on you” Is an Ode to Socially Distant Rocking

It’s no secret that 2020 has been miserable. Throughout the year, music has remained a consistent escape and (often singular) ray of hope in the face of the crushing bleakness that is reality. 

Not to sound too coldhearted or depressing, but when numbness is your default mode of operation, I’ve found music to be the one thing that can break me out of that every time. Whether it’s being jolted awake by the madness of the 100 gecs remix album, finding solace in the spaced-out relaxation on Texas Sun, or the feeling of excitement that comes with discovering a new band that becomes your next obsession.

While everyone is struggling (and coping) with the new realities of our world in different ways, musical artists have been hit particularly hard. Album releases have been disrupted, touring music has ceased entirely, and the tenuous relationship between artist and streaming services has grown even more strained. Everything from dropping a song to selling merch has been upended, but musicians are nothing if not resourceful. 

Bands have turned to direct lines of support in order to maintain their lives and passion. Artists have turned to Patreon, livestreaming, and Bandcamp to sustain themselves both creatively and financially. It’s making the best of a bad thing, and that’s an admirable thing considering we’re looking at a world where concerts might not return till late 2021 if we’re lucky. 

In the face of quarantine, artists have found creative workarounds for these restrictions; Charli XCX created a whole album in quarantine about quarantine with the help of her fans. Ratboys have scrapped their 2020 tour plans in favor of a “virtual tour” playing places like Stonehenge, Niagra Falls, and the Moon. 

The latest in this line of quarantined creativity comes in the form of Pinkshift. This Baltimore-based punk group combines the snarled vocals of Destroy Boys with the driving instrumental bite of mid-2000’s power pop groups like Damone. Last week the band released “i’m gonna tell my therapist on you,” a catchy, three-minute punk cut that grapples with the assholes in your life and the asshole in the back of your head. 

Today the group dropped the video for “therapist,” and it fits the song perfectly. Filmed in their cars, homes, bathrooms, and nearby open fields, the music video is a socially-distant take on rocking, showcasing each band member fully-committing to shredding even if it means wearing a mask and keeping six feet away from each other. It’s a brilliant document of music in 2020 and a testament to the resilience of DIY bands. Because if music really is your calling and your one true outlet, you’ll always find a way to make it work, even when the world is ending.

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Retirement Party – Runaway Dog | Album Review

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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An Introduction To Post-Rock

Sometime in the spring of 2011, I was assigned to read The Metamorphosis for a high school lit class. I was a little bummed that I had to spend some of my spring break doing homework, but it was a class I enjoyed, so I did it anyway. That year my family spent our spring break in a little house on the Oregon coast, and it was (unexpectedly) rainy for most of the week. Given the weather, I decided what better time to sit down and read this trippy-ass short story.

I laid down on my rented bed in my room that smelled distinctly “beachy” and listened to the raindrops patter against the window as the skies turned greyer and darker. I turned on my trusty iPod and decided that now was the time to listen to that new band I heard about called “Explosions in the Sky.” I put on The Earth Is Not A Cold Dead Place, the album with the most striking title, and cracked open my copy of the book.

For the next 40-some-odd minutes, I became so absorbed in the reading that I completely forgot about the outside world until the album came to a close. It was a meditative and (fittingly) transformative listening experience. I’d never heard anything quite like that album, and I immediately started another one of the band’s half-dozen records I had loaded onto my iPod before leaving Portland. 

Over the course of the next year, I had an absolute love affair with post-rock. A love that was kindled by one record soon grew into a new realm of sound that I relished exploring. It wasn’t like the other rock music I was used to, it completely calmed my mind and helped me focus on my work, whatever that was at the time. 

The genre single-handedly helped me get through college, soundtracking thousands of hours of reading, studying, and writing. To this day, post-rock still offers some of the most breathtaking and timeless songs in my entire music library, and I believe it’s a genre that’s worth submerging yourself in entirely. 

What follows are nine albums intended to offer a crash course of the post-rock/instrumental genre. These are personal favorites from bands that I love, all with varying degrees of significance within the actual “scene” itself, but albums that I would recommend to anyone, regardless of background or experience with this type of music. I genuinely believe that these albums serve a dual purpose as a sort of driving but distraction-free background music while also being some of the most moving and compelling pieces of art ever created. 

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Explosions In The Sky - The Earth Is Not a Cold Dead Place (2003)

Arguably one of the few unanimous post-rock records, The Earth Is Not a Cold Dead Place would easily be on the genre’s Mount Rushmore. While Explosion In The Sky’s debut is a wonderful bit of glittering heavy-metal post-rock, I’d argue the band has improved their sound, production, and approach to music with nearly every record. Their sophomore effort is a more mellow and moody atmospheric experience (that also happens to bear one of my favorite songs of all time), but it wasn’t until The Earth Is Not a Cold Dead Place that the band found themselves at the forefront of the scene with a budding new audience. Thanks in large part to their contributions to the Friday Night Lights score, but also because Cold Dead Place is a tight, economic album that showcases exactly what the genre is capable of in its purest form. 

Opening with the faint siren song of a single guitar on “First Breath After a Coma,” the record eases the listener into the band’s style like a doctor birthing a baby. The group gently layers multiple shimmering guitars over a subtle heart-beat-like floor tom keeping time. They play with adding and removing elements until a steady drumroll sweeps the listener away, and just like that, we’re off. The band crests and crescendos with masterful ease throughout the record, whether it’s the pensive “Six Days at the Bottom of the Ocean” or the lovestruck “Your Hand In Mine.” It may only be five tracks in total, but that doesn’t make this record any less fulfilling. I literally could not imagine a better entry point into the genre for myself or anyone else. 

Mogwai - Come On Die Young (1999)

On the polar opposite end of The Earth Is Not A Cold Dead Place, we have Mogwai’s sophomore album Come On Die Young. These two records are not connected in any way, other than the fact that I listened to them roughly around the same time and they both felt like stark counter-points to each other. While Cold Dead Place is a light, airy, and positive album Come On Die Young is a dark, confining, and foreboding piece of music. Just look at the two covers next to each other and tell me which one you think is going to be more oppressive. While I believe that the members of Mogwai are all great people, this record is simply one of the most evil things I’ve ever heard. This is darker than black metal, more unnerving than a horror movie soundtrack, and more overwhelming than anything you’ve ever heard. 

Opening with a swirling, distorted soundscape on “Punk Rock:” the band lets a soundbite from a 1977 Iggy Pop interview provide the thesis statement for the record: “Well, I'll tell you about punk rock, "punk rock" is a word used by dilettantes and, uh, and, uh heartless manipulators about music, that takes up the energies and the bodies and the hearts and the souls and the time and the minds of young men who give what they have to it and give everything they have to it.”

After that articulate introduction from the godfather of punk, the band pulls the rug out from under the listener with “Cody,” a precious and slow-moving love song about an ever-shifting relationship existing in an ever-shifting world. While it took me entirely too long to realize that “Cody” wasn’t named after a person, but instead an initialism of the album name, it also took me entirely too long to realize that this is the only song on the record with vocals. From there, “Helps Both Ways” utilizes a sample of John Madden commentary to navigate the murky waters of a crushingly moody riff. Meanwhile, “Kappa” and “Christmas Steps” both boast lumbering instrumentals while “Ex-Cowboy” features the more searing and rapid guitar strumming pattern dripping in reverb that the genre is most known for. Come On Die Young is far from a happy album, but it possesses an emotional catharsis the likes of which few other genres can provide. This record, combined with Cold Dead Place offer an excellent overview of the range that this genre can have with Come On Die Young existing in a more rotted and sinister end without being too offputting to newcomers.

This Will Destroy You - Young Mountain (2006)

Yet another record I’d put on the post-rock Mount Rushmore, the debut album from This Will Destroy You exists somewhere on the tonal spectrum in between Explosions in the Sky and Mogwai. Blending the cinematic builds of Explosions and the more brooding pensiveness of Mogwai, Young Mountain lies at a healthy middle ground of post-rock. 

From the first majestic keystrokes and gently-falling guitar notes of “Quiet,” you can immediately tell this record is something different. There are heart-pumping builds on “There Are Some Remedies Worse Than The Disease,” there’s world-conquering uplift on “I Believe in Your Victory,” and there’s hypnotic glitchiness on “Grandfather Clock.” While the band arguably has bigger “hits” on their self-titled record with songs like “The Mighty Rio Grande,” it’s hard to argue with the punctuality of Young Mountain. This is the debut of a band who knew exactly what they were doing and exactly the kind of art they wanted to put out into the world.

Godspeed You! Black Emperor - Lift Your Skinny Fists Like Antennas to Heaven (2000)

Quite possibly the defining work of the post-rock genre, Lift Your Skinny Fists Like Antennas to Heaven contains only four tracks, each clocking in at roughly twenty minutes apiece. It’s less of an album and more of an experience that the band shepherds the listener through. These songs, or acts, are each composed of different movements, all of which are depicted in the vinyl in a timestamped illustrated diagram depicting the “intensity” of each segment. While that gatefold makes this a rewarding album to sit down with, focus on, and follow along with closely, these are ultimately just ornate layers of detail on top of an already-beautiful album.

Album opener “Storm” begins with a triumphant build of guitar, bass, and drums, eventually layering on horns, a string section, and an entire orchestra as the track gains momentum. This is not the dark and grim apocalyptic band that recorded F# A# ∞, or even Slow Riot For New Zero Kanada two years prior, this is Godspeed as a blossoming flower opening up to see the world as their stage. However, by the time the first track ends (a movement called “Cancer Towers on Holy Road Hi-Way”), it’s clear that there’s something more sinister brewing just beneath the surface. 

“Static” features ominous demonic hums that build to a cataclysmic explosion. “Sleep” is at once a dreamy, floaty, and wistful bad trip. Finally, the title track brings things home with a soaring and anthemic song that mounts into a beautiful conclusion. Quite frankly, Lift Your Skinny Fists is an album that must be experienced to be understood, there’s a reason why it’s become the defacto post-rock album for millions of fans. 

Sigur Rós - ( ) (2002)

At some point near the end of my high school experience I stumbled upon Sigur Rós, and that discovery (combined with copious amounts of metalcore) helped me realize how little lyrics really matter to me. With all of their songs being either instrumental, sung in Icelandic, or “Hopelandic” (a gibberish blend of English and Icelandic that the band invented), I didn’t understand a word these guys were saying. Don’t get me wrong; a well-written song is great, but as far as I’m concerned good lyrics are just a cherry on top, not a necessity. 

While some may sing the praises of their breakthrough Ágætis byrjun or the overwhelmingly pleasant Takk..., I believe ( ) to be their most consistent album. Comprised of 8 “untitled” songs, the record is divided into two even halves separated by 36-seconds of silence and bookended by two clicks of static. The first half of the album is more bright and optimistic, while the second half is more bleak and desolate. It’s a loose concept album in that sense, but ( ) offers a beautiful depth and breathtaking range of emotions over the course of its 76-minute running time. It bears the strange, otherworldly qualities that Sigur Rós is known for while still feeling grounded enough in reality that a newcomer can wade in comfortably.

Russian Circles - Enter (2006)

Admittedly a half-step away from post-rock and toward straight-up metal, the debut album from Russian Circles is a beautiful, heavy, and riff-oriented instrumental post-metal album. Packed with precise guitar riffs, tight drumming, and world-shattering basslines, this record truly has a little bit of everything. 

From the clockwork-like build of “Carpe” to the crushing bounding riffage on “Death Rides a Horse,” the record is a showcase for the absolute breadth of music that can be created with just three instruments. There’s the deeply-feeling “You Already Did” and “Micha,” both of which are palpable with remorse and pain, all without saying a word. While later Russian Circle albums may be tighter, darker, and more cinematic, there’s something to be said for the staggering range of both emotion and tonality on display in the 44 minutes of Enter.

Earth - The Bees Made Honey In The Lion’s Skull (2008)

Yet another half-step away from post-rock, just in the opposite direction, Earth are the all-important progenitors of drone as we know it. Characterized by spaced-out repetitive riffs that roll on like long arid stretches of desert, drone is a genre all about soundtracking a time and place that exists only in your mind. The albums work like witchcraft, slowly casting a spell on the listener’s mind until it’s transported to another world far away from this one. Through this slowly-unfolding transportive property, these bands are able to unwind gorgeous riffs that establish a sense of time and place unlike any other genre.

The Bees Made Honey In The Lion’s Skull is a mythical album. Aside from its biblical title and gorgeous leather-bound vinyl, the songs here capture Earth at the absolute peak of the band’s mid-2000’s era. Unlike their early trailblazing half-hour dissonant recordings or their more recent vocal pivot, The Bees Made Honey offers (relatively) punctual tracks that swirl and cascade around the listener with unparalleled divinity. Songs like “Miami Morning Comedown II” shimmer with opulent mid-morning light while tracks like “Hung From The Moon” feel more like a desert at twilight; blue and expansive but still hot enough for heat haze to be prevalent. The entire album is like a beautiful mirage, it almost seems too good to be true, but then you reach the end and realize you’ve made it out of the desert. 

Mogwai - Mr. Beast (2006)

Mogwai’s discography is immaculate. While Young Team introduced Mogwai to the world and Come On, Die Young has a special place in my heart (literally the first thing ever posted to this site, which I do not recommend you read) I’d argue Mr. Beast is also one of the best entry points into the band’s world. Their work ranges from spacy love songs, glistening immaculate creations, pensive piano-led remixes, and glitchy electronic diversions, but Mr. Beast is a personal favorite merely because it’s wall-to-wall riffs. While Mogwai are no strangers to The Riff (just listen to “My Father My King” or “Xmas Steps”), the band’s fifth album is arguably the most consistently heavy thing that they have ever created. 

“Auto Rock” kicks things off with a piano melody that gradually mounts along with electronic elements, pounding drums, and buzzing guitar that grows into a rhythmic tribal beat that abducts you into the world of the record. “Glasgow Mega-Snake” turns the metal side of Mogwai up to ten as multiple distorted guitars and bass coalesce into one fast-paced riff that pushes the listener forward like a violent current. Other highlights include the soft and electronic “Acid Food,” the anthemic “ Travel is Dangerous,” the riff-bearing “We’re No Here,” or the penultimate credit roll of “I Chose Horses.” 

One of the things that makes Mr. Beast a fantastic entry point to post-rock is that it’s very atypical of the genre. Lots of the songs here have vocals of some sort, and the average song length is about four minutes. It’s also an extremely-varied album with different sounds and approaches that always keeps you wondering what’s next. Truly one of the band’s many masterworks. 

Slint - Spiderland (1991)

Often cited as the record that invented the post-rock genre, Slint’s Spiderland is a masterpiece. If it wasn’t evident by the cover, this is an album that was created by a bunch of teenagers. Spiderland sold fewer than 5,000 copies, and the band broke up before the record could even be considered a cult hit… but cult status it soon achieved, eventually paving the way for the entire post-rock genre in earnest.

While not as purely instrumental as some of the other records on this list, Spiderland solidified the dark, pensive moodiness that became a standard of the genre. It crystalized the dynamic builds and ever-shifting cinematic landscapes that have become a staple of post-rock. Spiderland is flat-out one of the most influential albums in all of rock music. These guys may not be The Beatles, but in the space of 40 minutes they crafted a world so dense and lived-in that we still have groups exploring its corners nearly three decades later. 

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There you have it folks,  the single best crash course for a genre I could ever create. If you’re listening to these albums and find yourself hungry for more, I wholeheartedly recommend exploring each of these artist’s discographies because they’re all rich and rewarding in their own way. Beyond that, there are numerous other legendary post-rock bands I didn’t even get into here like Caspian, God Is An Astronaut, Mono, and more. If you’d like, all nine of the albums on this list have been placed into a playlist here for easy consumption. Thank you for reading along about this genre that has meant so much to me over the last decade. I can only hope that you’ll find as much solace and beauty in these albums as I have over the years.

Celebrating One Decade Of Last.fm

As of today, my last.fm account is ten years old. I would never have guessed that an offhand suggestion from one of my high school classmates would shape my musical history so radically.

I’m not one of the people who are obsessed with getting the most plays, but what I am obsessed with is accuracy. This website has been an amazing tool to crystalize my listening habits and musical discoveries. The ability to look back at ten years of my music habits and see exactly what I was listening to on a specific day is still kind of mind-blowing to me.

This account begins with my last year of high school, stretches through college, and now four years of “adult” life. I can look back at this and see distinct phases, moods, and discoveries I’ve made, and as a music nerd, that is absolutely invaluable.

There’s no real point to this post other than to celebrate ten years of being an unabashed music dork. Last.fm has forever changed the way I interact with music, and I love it for that.