Meet Good Luck Charm Records, The Midwest's Best-Kept Secret

In my mind, the midwest is synonymous with good music. From Ska and hip-hop to emo and hardcore, there’s a music scene for every possible genre and taste out there. There’s so much, in fact, sometimes it can feel daunting to jump into. However, with no shows happening for the foreseeable, the best way to discover these acts now shifts to social media, blogs, and labels. 

While these three entities can work together to shed light on new acts, we still live in a world dominated by a neverending news cycle and constant shitposts. Sometimes it’s hard to breakthrough, but that’s why repetition is key. I don’t necessarily see myself as a “tastemaker,” but I wanted to use what little platform I have to shine a light on Good Luck Charm Records, a bastion of the Michigan music scene, and a label that symbolizes everything good in DIY.

Created by Jake Rees of No Fun Club, Good Luck Charm Records is a label devoted to elevating the types of bands you never hear about, even within DIY-focused publications. The label has had a hell of a year, helping bring roughly half a dozen Michigan-based bands to wider platforms through small tape releases and light social media promotion. Much like this blog, GLC exists as a side-project, and the fact that Rees has been able to promote such incredible artists on top of his day-to-day obligations is nothing short of inspirational. 

Focused almost entirely on the Michigan scene, these are the types of bands you’d find opening and middling at DIY gigs in basements all over the midwest. These are the bands you’d see in a dingy Detroit bar and be blown away by. These are the types of bands you’d fall in love with after one performance and walk away with an armful of merch thinking to yourself, ‘why isn’t everyone talking about these guys?’ Hence this article. 

While I’d hope you walk away from this having discovered a new up-and-coming Michigan band, I hope if nothing else, you take away the importance of DIY and how vital it is to support your local artists. Even if you don’t have massive amounts of disposable income (who in this scene really does?), you can still help local acts by sharing them with friends, streaming them online, picking up tapes on Bandcamp, or bringing your friends to a gig once shows are back. Bands like these exist all over the world; it’s up to us, the fans, whether or not they find their audience or not. 

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Boyfrienders - Scenes of Brooklyn or Meditations on Mid-Twenties Mediocrity 

First up, we have Boyfrienders, a synth-pop group from Wyandotte. If you’ve been following the blog closely, you might remember our interview with Benny Morawa earlier this year when we helped premier “The Lower East Side Blues.” Honestly, I don’t even know where to start with Boyfrienders. I could talk about Morawa’s awesome contributions to Mover Shaker’s excellent sophomore album, I could talk about the guest features from Felix Beiderman and Garrett Hunter, I could talk about Morawa’s unique position as a non-binary frontperson and how that impacts their creative process… there are simply too many things to note in this short of a write-up. 

A loose concept album, Scenes of Brooklyn or Meditations on Mid-Twenties Mediocrity is exactly what it sounds like: a post-college grappling with one’s place in the world. Blending electronic elements with flashy indie rock, this release is like a hyper-modern DIY evolution of Future Islands as seen through a series of train stops in the most populous city in our nation. If the name alone doesn’t want to make you click play on the record, then I don’t know what will. 

It Doesn’t Bother Me - It Doesn’t Bother Me

Put simply, It Doesn’t Bother Me released one of the best EPs of the year. Not only that, they released one of the best debuts of the year. It’s one thing to release a good collection of songs; it’s another for that collection of songs to be this polished, catchy, and playlist-ready. 

Featuring jittery guitar tapping, lighthearted self-deprecation, and a hearty helping of group chants, this is a textbook midwest emo release. What separates it from the Mom Jeans of the world is the band’s ability to make these songs sound entirely fresh and approachable to someone outside of the scene. These aren’t just “good emo songs,” these are good songs full-stop. Plus, clocking in at only 12 minutes, this EP offers a low-risk entry point into the world of sad white guys talking about their problems. The band’s self-awareness makes it easy to see the forest through the proverbial trees, allowing anyone to easily see the deeper artistry beneath the familiar emo frameworks.

Bombastic Dream Pussy - BDP

Easily the best band name on this list (and possibly in the world), Bombastic Dream Pussy is a grungy rock act that slithered from the collective depths of DIY venues all across Detroit. Helmed by Hayley McNichol, this EP features instrumental contributions from the likes of Dogleg, Parkway & Columbia, Shortly, and Holy Profane to name a few. 

The best way to first experience Bombastic Dream Pussy is to witness Hayley pour their emotions out by playing these songs out on-stage. Since that’s not currently possible, the second-best way to experience BDP is to watch this video of McNichol performing lead single “Blood on My Bike Seat” to a rapt audience at Fauxchella III. This song details the hyper-traumatic experience of sexual assault, as seen directly through McNicol’s eyes, but wraps this story in a simple chord progression paired with a folksy twang that makes the topic feel slightly more digestible. It’s lyrically-heavy, but I can’t think of a single better encapsulation of what makes this project special than that song. The EP itself features 26 minutes of 90s-inspired indie rock that soundtracks Hayley’s experiences and emotions in a shockingly catchy way. It’s powerful, moving, and completely transportive.  

Happiness Isn’t Possible / Content. - Split

Last but not least, we have a split between two Ypsilanti bands that bring together disparate styles in a surprisingly effective combination. First on the split is Happiness Isn’t Possible, a hardcore act featuring members of Solemn Judgement, who I’ve also written about. The band comes out swinging with the seasonally appropriate “What’s Your Favorite Scary Movie?” Sounding like a broken nose received in a sweaty Michigan basement, this track is a crushingly-heavy seven-minute odyssey that fluctuates between doomy riffage, hardcore breakdowns, and glitchy Code Orange mayhem. It’s absolute chaos. 

Meanwhile, Content. finds Kris Lane (formerly of Hibiscus Bones and Swordfish) embarking on a solo project he describes as “post-whatever.” Leaning heavy into the blurry shoegaze/ambient side of the musical spectrum, Lane’s contributions are dripping in reverb. It’s a wall of sound that’s at once fuzzy and heavy, yet resonant and deeply-felt. The lyrics mesh into the wall of guitar, crashing drums, and a whir of electronics, creating songs that feel more like dreams or distant memories. These songs feel like the soundtrack to a horror film that hasn’t yet been made, and that makes them feel all the more haunting and visceral as you listen waiting for something to go wrong.

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There you have it, four excellent releases from a tiny label from a small corner of our country. While I admittedly have a soft spot for Michigan, what’s incredible about DIY is that there are bands just like this all over the country. There are incredible acts just waiting to be discovered and shared by you. Good bands require good fans to survive, and you don’t have to own a label or run a blog to help good music flourish. Whether you want some tappy emo or some fist-balling hardcore, there’s so much incredible art out there just waiting for you. Your support goes further than you know, and luckily for us, there are people out there like Jake helping it make its way into the world. 

Thirty Cent Fare - Time To Waste Away | EP Review

I’ve learned many things this year about myself, about the world, and about those around me. One of the many things I’ve learned is to trust Acrobat Unstable implicitly. When they drop new tapes, I cop them. When they update their weekly Spotify playlist, I listen. Most importantly, when they sign a new band, I check them out.

This trust has paid off in spades; my cassette tape collection has grown exponentially, each week I am turned on to some new music, and every once in a while I discover a cool new band to become a diehard fan of. They’ve helped usher in releases from Short Fictions, Carpool, and Ultimate Frisbee, and that’s just in the last year alone. So when they announced they were signing Thirty Cent Fare for an EP, as the kids say, I had no choice but to stan. 

Blindly jumping into an artist can be a rewarding experience, but that feeling is amplified tenfold when their Spotify page has <1000 streams and doesn’t even have any related artists. That’s true blindness, that’s genuinely non-existent expectations, which means you’re forced to trust your gut. 

When I hit play on “Split The Ceiling,” I was met with a bounding instrumental that signaled within seconds that the label had done it again. Doubling as both the lead single and opening track,  “Split The Ceiling” is a dynamic and ever-shifting song that echoes a Title Fight sentiment over a distorted guitar and bouncy country-fried drum beat. It’s a warm and sunny welcome to the project featuring remorseful lyrics and a soulful guitar solo crescendo.

This sense of carefree summer-flavored instrumentation continues on the hypnotic “Falling Around Me,” where a glitchy electronic bed pairs with the far-off swirling croons of lead singer Scott Downes. From there, the band does an emotional-180 with “Counts For Nothing,” which deploys a jaunty Field Medic-like acoustic guitar riff under a twangy vocal for an effect that’s both driving and laid-back.

“This or Something Better” uses a gorgeous arrangement of vocal harmonies to evoke the feeling of watching a sunset from the comfort of your own porch with a cold beer in your hand. Meanwhile, the closing track “Time To Waste Away” sounds like a mix of The Berries and fellow Acrobat Unstable signees Charm, with the end result being a calming and assuring send-off.

For a 14-minute project from an artist I’d never heard of, Time To Waste Away is a marvel. It’s new music in a familiar package that acts as a picture-perfect soundtrack to your late-fall evenings and amber-tinted afternoons. This is an EP that feels designed to appeal directly to your inner hiker and soundtrack your next seasonal adventure. It’s a release that welcomes you in warmly, cradles you for a mere 14 minutes, then sends you off to conqueror the world, or at least some tiny part of it. It’s the soundtrack to wasted afternoons, lost hours, and aimless adventures. However, if anything, Time To Waste Away is just an affirmation that time enjoyed is never time wasted.

The Weak Days – Fabric of Our Lives | EP Review

How do relationships begin? When do they fall apart? Are we able to see that decay in real-time as it’s happening? Is it inevitable, or can we alter the course of changing love? These are the questions that The Weak Days are posing on their new EP, The Fabric Of Our Lives. 

Filtered through a low-fantasy lens, the band’s EP tells the story of a bard and a botanist whose marriage is failing. A far cry from the emo tales and inspirational affirmations of 2017’s Tight, the band’s new EP is a finely-crafted pivot that retains their razor-sharp writing and skilled instrumentation. 

The EP opens with “No One Can Live Forever,” a remorseful duet carried by a catchy singalong “oooh weee ooo ooo oooooo” chorus. As we listen on in this conversation between the two disembodied voices, it’s here where the album's concept reveals itself. Over the course of an impassioned back and forth, one character compares the relationship to wilting flowers while the other explains they’re just “out of tune” with each other. The concept becomes undeniable as an instrumental drop out halfway through the track paves the way for both characters to shout “I want a divorce” at the exact same time. It’s gorgeous, heartbreaking, and unlike anything the band has ever made before. 

“Your Shoulder” is a more hopeful song that still contains elements of falling apart and being a broken human at your core. The song captures that sense of dread and regret that fills you the morning after an awful fight. It captures the shame and sorrow you feel while still circling back to this sense of optimism that things can still work out. From there, “The Seams,” “Intermissing,” and “Til Then” elevate the EP into high-fantasy territory with immortal beings, eternal tasks, and a poetic resolution worthy of a children’s storybook. These songs deploy mellow acoustic guitar, disorienting electronic passages, and gorgeous mallet percussion, all while continuing the beautiful back-and-forth vocal duties of drummer Dustin Reinink and bassist RB Roe. This is all wrapped in gorgeous and airy production courtesy of Chris Teti of The World Is a Beautiful Place & I Am No Longer Afraid to Die. 

This all amounts to a gorgeous, complex, and detailed 20 minutes of music that sits somewhere between emo, pop, and indie rock, all of which is filtered through a hyper-creative fantasy D&D-like lens. The Fabric Of Our Lives is an EP that feels like an album based solely on the amount of creativity, writing, and care that’s on display. It’s like an episode of Adventure Time brought to life, smelted, and poured out into a swirling world of ambrosial auditory wonder. 

It’s one thing to write about your own life, but it’s another to craft a story that feels just as lived-in and fleshed-out. Just look at what Dan Campbell has achieved with Aaron West and the Roaring Twenties; he’s written a character that’s as relatable, autonomous, and compelling as his main band which “only” takes inspiration from the member’s lived experiences. The same thing is happening here; The Weak Days have shifted the focus away from their own lives and funneled that energy and creativity into this pair of fictional characters that are just as intricate in their own right. 

Doing something like this requires not only imagination and writing prowess, but empathy and compassion as well. It reminds me of the concept of sonder, which is “the realization that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own.” With this collection of six songs, The Weak Days have managed to create two separate entities that we not only identify with but come to care for over the course of the release’s 20 minutes. It serves as a reminder that we are all connected, that we should all care for each other, that we are all in this together, from your friends and family to the bards and botanists that exist in our shared imaginations.

A Very Sufjan Christmas is Back For Another Year!

The following is a post from our sister site A Very Sufjan Christmas.
Follow us on Twitter at @SufjanChristmas or on Instagram at @SufjanChristmas to enjoy daily song write-ups this December!

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I’m not going to sugar-coat it, this year has been rough. So much so that I debated whether or not I even wanted to do A Very Sufjan Christmas this year. After all, how much do you feel like celebrating? Because I certainly don’t. 

Between the ongoing global pandemic, a demoralizing election cycle, and a fascist government that’s systematically brutalizing and murdering its own citizens, most days it feels like there isn’t much to look forward to. That said, time is indifferent and marches onward regardless of how we feel or what we think. Once the leaves began to change this fall and December crept over the horizon of my calendar I realized we could use some holiday cheer this year more than ever.

I’m going to level with you guys, running this blog is a lot of work. Even though I’m not personally writing every post, I’m still just one man wrangling 25 writers, editing 25 pieces, publishing 25 articles, and scheduling 25 days of social media. This is all on top of my day job and my other music blog over at Swim Into The Sound. 

I say this not to earn pity points, but because I know every one of you reading this is probably in a similar position. You might be better off than me, hell you might be worse off than me, but we’re all living through the same thing, and it brings me great joy to see how much cheer this blog spreads each year. 

That sense of tangible holiday cheer is worth all the countless hours and late nights I spend throughout these last two months of the year. I get to revel in the stories of other people’s Christmases past and help share them with the world. They’re not always wholesome, but neither is life. Either way, I love being at the epicenter of this communal outpouring of Christmas spirit. The fact that it’s themed around an artist I love is just a bonus. 

Speaking of which, 2020 has been a banner year for Sufjan. We received not only the first studio album of his in five years, but a groovy electronic record on top of that. If you’re still hungry for more Sufjan-related content to tide you over till December, I published a retrospective on Carrie & Lowell earlier this year that I’m quite proud of. 

Personal plugs, Sufjan-related updates, and global temperature checks aside, I hope you’re all doing okay. This blog will run on the same schedule as years past; starting December 1st, you’ll see a new post from a different writer every day until Christmas. I encourage you to bookmark this page, follow us on Twitter, Instagram, and even reddit to keep up with the posts. You can also visit the archive to read the previous year’s posts if you’re already feeling the Christmas spirit. 

If you’re interested in participating in the blog this year or next, please reach out to us on any of those platforms linked above or via our email sufjanchristmas@gmail.com.  

Other than that, all I can ask is that you share this website with someone you think you might enjoy it. If you find an article that really connects with you, share it, text someone about it, post it on your story, that means the world. Even reach out to the writer, each author’s social media accounts are (almost always) linked at the bottom of each write-up, and there’s nothing quite like random words of affirmation from a stranger, especially around the holidays. 
With all that said, I hope you are all doing okay. I love you all, and I’m beyond excited to share another 25 fantastic write-ups with you this year. 

Happy holidays, Merry Christmas, stay safe. 

Sinai Vessel – Ground Aswim | Album Review

Preciousness has become a lost art form. Everything in 2020 has been BIG and loud and important. That’s why when I heard “Guest In Your Life,” the first single off Sinai Vessel’s sophomore album Ground Aswim, it felt like the breath of fresh air I’d been gasping for all year. Relaxing, measured, and unhurried, “Guest In Your Life” provided some sense of pause in a year that has been nothing but acceleration. Over the course of its three minutes, the song wraps itself around the listener and convinces them that maybe, just maybe, things are going to be okay. This sense of calm is continued throughout the rest of the album, cementing it as an infinitely renewable source of comfort, a sacred and invaluable resource in the scatterbrained always-on world in which we currently exist. 

Now, this is not to say there weren’t plenty of things this year that required urgency, but it’s more that taking the time for subtlety, careful consideration, or simply a moment of pause went out the window in favor of immediacy. Sometimes impassioned frenzy works, but it cannot be your default state. After all, if you live life with your hair on fire, how much can you realistically expect to get done? 

Album opener “Where Did You Go?” begins not with a rallying call to arms, but a single meditative electronic note and spaced-out drumline. Eventually, buttery a smooth bass and gorgeous cascading guitar join the fray, slowly and carefully crafting a melody that flows like a brook. Two minutes into the track, lead singer Caleb Cordes makes his presence known with a voice that never rises above a friendly conversation. With a charming twang, he walks us through scenes of childhood memories that build to the loss of a friend. Gentle keys carry us out of the track for the last two minutes as Cordes sings the song’s namesake several more times, leaving us to ruminate on the importance of life and innocence, two things we can never get back. A heavy opener, to be sure, but still a sonically-laid back introduction to the grounds of the album on which you’ve just arrived. 

Track two, “Shameplant,” also served as the album’s second single. Maybe it’s the ‘plant’ tie-in or the guitar line, but this song sounds downright Oso Oso-esque in the best way possible. Despite the sunny and upbeat instrumental, this song finds Cordes questioning whether or not he can care for himself, let alone anyone (or anything) else. “Can’t expect to grow a garden and expect on only rain,” he sings over a brustling emo riff, articulating a beautifully poetic notion on self-sustainability (or lack thereof) that evokes the same sentiments as early Wonder Years songs.

Other tracks like “Fragile” and “George” weave personal tales of relationships and life experiences around instrumental beds that all glisten and shimmer in unique ways. Some tracks like “All Days Just End” feel like hyper-poignant reflections on life in quarantine, meanwhile “Tunneling” addresses general anxieties in a digestible way that feels both accurate yet approachable.

Aside from beautiful writing that effortlessly rises to your level and connects with you upon first listen, almost all of the tracks on Ground Aswim feel unique and contain moments that make them feel distinct from the songs that came before or after. There’s a far-off tunnel-vision projection effect on “Fragile,” a biting hypnotic drumbeat on “Birdseye,” and a wonderfully dynamic build on “Tunneling.” There’s a weird Peaer-esque mathy breakdown on “A Must While So Near” and a lavish steel guitar alongside discretely double-tracked vocals on “Guest In Your Life.” There’s a wealth of sounds to feast upon in this record, and the best part is they’re all still cohesive and fit within the world of the album

What strikes me most about Ground Awsim is the level of restraint deployed on these songs. “Ringing” features only Cordes, his guitar, and a little bit of reverb, yet he’s able to create a piece that’s emotionally-resonant where his words are first and forefront, emotions laid bare before the listener. It’s downright Julien Baker-esque in its economy of instrumentation, and that makes the whole song more memorable and heavy-hitting as a result.

This restraint pays off fully in “Antechamber,” the precious and aching album closer that begins as a slow build but gradually simmers into an affirming meditative repetition over the course of its six winding minutes. Recorded in a single take, “Antechamber” feels ornate and detailed, yet lived-in and authentic. It’s a pitch-perfect note to end the album on and leaves the listener continuing to feel its effects hours later. 

Ground Aswim is the antidote to 2020: it’s precious, careful, empathetic, thoughtful, and sensitive. At times it’s mournful and sentimental, but those are not necessarily bad things to lose touch of either. As the world outside turns colder, more bitter, and continues to tear itself apart, it’s a relief to have the shores of Ground Aswim to point ourselves to as we paddle toward calmer waters.