Music, Life, and Tigers Jaw: How We Remember Music

As I write this, I’m listening to “Hesitation,” a single off the Tigers Jaw’s upcoming album I Won't Care How You Remember Me. My history with Tigers Jaw is long and winding, but the tl;dr version is that I (like many other people) have a soft spot for their self-titled album. While I have come to adore Charmer and think spin has some undeniable bangers, nothing the band has ever made since 2008 has quite reached the peak of that landmark emo album… but why? 

As I listened to the first few seconds of “Hesitation,” I was able to suspend my disbelief and, just for a moment, hear an emo riff that would have sounded perfectly at-home on that pizza-adorned favorite of mine. “Hesitation” itself is great, but hearing such an evocative piece of guitarwork made me realize that even if we get a better Tigers Jaw album than the self-titled record, we’ll never get another Tigers Jaw album that hits quite the same. 

Tigers Jaw is an immensely personal album to me, and I know I’m not alone in that. The band’s top songs on Spotify pull largely from their 2008 release. For some fans, it evokes long-lost decade-old memories of high school nights spent with friends or the sweat-and-beer smell of DIY shows. For me, the band’s self-titled record is forever tied to a very specific and formative spring term in college. I think the songs are great, obviously, but I only recently realized how much those subjective feelings inform my love for the album. 

Hearing the opening notes to “The Sun” instantly takes me back into a time of my life where everything seemed to be turning around, and it made me realize nobody else has those memories. Nobody else listens to Tigers Jaw and feels the exact way I feel. We may hear the same choruses and see the same sentiments captured in the songs, but nobody feels the exact weird mix of emotions I experienced that spring term. Nobody hears “Plane vs. Tank vs. Submarine” and thinks about studying beat poetry for their English class. No Tigers Jaw fan hears “Never Saw It Coming” and can conjure to mind the strange melancholy I felt on that one weird train ride home after a bad day. Not a single soul associates “Meals On Wheels” with the optimistic feeling of basking in the sun after a long, cold, rainy Oregon winter and feeling a sense of self-assuredness for the first time in years. Those are all me. Those are all Tigers Jaw.

My point is I love Tigers Jaw not just because it’s a great album but because it is synonymous with a very important time in my life. No other Tigers Jaw album, no matter how good, will ever broach that strange mix of musical excellence and nostalgia. Tigers Jaw is encased in amber. It’s trapped in time. It’s something that can never be reclaimed, recreated, or bested. 

I’m incredibly excited about the new Tigers Jaw album. I’m happy they’re still around, and I’m glad they’re still putting out incredible music after a decade and a half together as a band. It’s just odd to hear something like that opening riff on “Hesitation,” which sounds like a familiar memory yet is completely new. It’s a strange sense of musical and emotional deja vu. It made me realize that I Won't Care How You Remember Me will eventually be someone’s Tigers Jaw. Somebody will listen to these songs, fall in love with them, and forever associate them with a specific and important time in their life. 

That power of association is an extraordinary aspect of music that can make things unfair at times. As an artist, it’s unfair that you can never recreate something that appeals to a fan in the exact same way, just in a different way. The songs on I Won't Care How You Remember Me might grow associations that I look back on as fondly as the songs on Tigers Jaw, but I won’t know until I look back on them with an equivalent amount of time. Right now, it just feels like “New Tigers Jaw” versus “Old Tigers Jaw,” but it’s important to remember that there’s also a decade-plus worth of memories that comes with the latter one. It’s apples and oranges. 

That phenomenon of musical nostalgia is also unfair as a fan. You can never explain quite why an old album appeals to you. Yes, you can share the songs, break down the lyrics, analyze the instrumentation, and use beautiful flowery language to impart the feeling that it gives you. Still, you will never be able to explain the complex web of associations and sentimentality you feel when listening to it. It’s sad because nobody will ever relate to these songs in the exact same way, yet the cool thing is that you can still find a way to relate.

That’s what makes music writing fun. Reviewing music is just a writer attempting to explain how a song or album makes them feel before those associations set in. Over time, everyone will form their own unique opinions of, feelings on, and relationships with the music that are all unreplicable. It makes this job hard because I can never completely explain what Tigers Jaw means to me, but it fills me with a strange sense of awe and optimism knowing that someone will be experiencing their own version of those feelings with I Won't Care How You Remember Me. It makes me think about the infinite number of feelings and associations people already have with Tigers Jaw. That album has been out 13 years, and I guarantee other people have experiences tied to that album that are just as powerful as mine; they’re just powerful in a different way. 

It makes me look on at music in wonder. It makes concerts astonishing. That we can all stand in the same room, sit in the same theater, or crowd together in the same basement and all experience something together at the same time, all forming a new association with those songs at the same time. It’s encoding something in us in real-time. It’s bonding us forever. 

Music is beautiful because it can bring us together in those moments, if only for an hour or so. Eventually, we’ll all look back on that time we saw Tigers Jaw live and how much fun we had that night. Or how bad it was. Or the weird drunk dude who kept shouting the lyrics at the top of his lungs and spilled beer on the person in front of him. Twice. Associations are infinite. There’s an endless number of feelings, and each person will remember them differently. What’s more, those feelings can never be wholly imparted upon another soul. We can get together physically or digitally and find solace in the same piece of music. We can also listen on our own, live our lives the best way we know, and grow those personal feelings over time. We can talk about music now or find each other years down the line. Music is both collaborative and solitary. It’s communal and custom. The best part is that it’s powerful no matter what. 

That’s why I encourage anyone and everyone to write about music. That’s why I purposely choose to focus this blog on the intersection between music and life. Because you can’t have one without the other, and there’s no “right” way to write about those associations or convey those feelings. It’s why every discography ranking, countdown, and year-end list is inherently flawed. A writer can say the music “rips,” “shreds,” or “slaps” all day long. You can analyze the choruses, examine the guitar solos, and explain the drum pattern, all with perfect terminology, but at the end of the day, that’s just describing the music. If you’re writing about an old album, and if it’s an album that’s truly dear to you, then try to capture the layer just beyond. Try to explain your feelings, your truth, your life that lies just beyond the music. Try to explain your musical associations and lay out your experiences. Attempt to capture that beautiful and unique essence that you bring to the music. That’s the art of music writing, that’s where the beauty lies. That’s the intersection between music and life.

This all makes the name of Tigers Jaw’s new album feel particularly apt; I Won't Care How You Remember Me. I haven’t heard the album yet, so I don’t know the context in which that sentiment is delivered, but it makes me think about my own history with the band. It makes me think about all of our separate histories with the band. Tigers Jaw don’t care if you love this album or hate it. They don’t care if you view it as better or worse than their self-titled. None of that matters to them. They don’t care how you remember them. All that matters is that you remember them. 

The Best of February 2021

In writing this month’s batch of mini-reviews, I realized that the title of this series is slightly misleading. These albums aren’t necessarily the “best” of the month; that’s a bit of a misnomer. None of these albums are objectively better or worse than anything else that released this month. These are simply the albums that I’ve been listening to the most and therefore have the most thoughts on. I still recommend checking each of these releases out, it’s just that some of these albums are great, and some are only great to me. Speaking of which, this seems like a perfect segue into the first record on our roundup...

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Foo Fighters - Medicine at Midnight

Roswell Records

For better or worse, I am a Foo Fighters Fan. I spent the better part of my middle school years discovering alternative rock with the Foo Fighters discography paving the way. Even as I fell in love with new genres and more “exciting” artists throughout high school and college, Foo Fighters remained a constant companion and a reliable source of competently-made hard rock. I made a yearly tradition out of watching Back and Forth, and about once a year, I’ll have a short but torrid love affair with the band, leaning more towards their pre-Sonic Highways albums. In the lead-up to Medicine at Midnight, I devoured reviews, think pieces, interviews, and rankings, unknowingly re-igniting my love for the band just in time for the group’s newest offering. Medicine at Midnight is a step above the last two Foo Fighters albums with songs that range from drum-led choirs, hard-charging guitar licks, and even Queens of the Stone Age-esque desert rock. All of these tracks utilize the band’s standard components (an over-abundance of guitars, solid rhythm sections, and Dave Grohl’s signature snarl), but they’re also filtered through a slightly dancy lens that gives the songs a noticeable amount of bounciness and life. I can see why someone wouldn’t like Foo Fighters, especially Medicine at Midnight; this is music that would fit just as well in a Dodge commercial as it would on my high school iPod, but that’s the duality of Foo Fighters, and consequently why I love them. 

Vampire Weekend - 40:42

Spring Snow, LLC

As a longtime post-rock fan, I’ve always joked that I’m just one step away from getting into jam bands. On top of that, I’m a hardcore Ween fan (a jam-adjacent band) and have spent hours listening to a podcast about Phish. In other words, that jam-band-guy-tendency has always been there, lying in wait for the perfect moment to strike. When Vampire Weekend dropped the Grateful Dead-worshipping Father Of The Bride in 2019, my interest was peaked. I’ve always liked Vampire Weekend but never consider myself a big fan. Nevertheless, Father was one of my favorite releases of that year. As I followed the album’s release cycle and watched how the band extended the songs out into longer, more jammy live renditions, I knew it was only a matter of time until the jam band thing came full-circle. Now with 40:42, the prophecy has been fulfilled. This release sees Vampire Weekend tapping jazz musician Sam Gendel and jam band Goose to remix “2021,” both artists blowing the song out into 20-minute and 21-second pieces of their respective genres to awe-inspiring and vibe-filled effect. 

Black Country, New Road - For the first time

Ninja Tune

Somewhere between Slint, Shame, and the first album by A Lot Like Birds lies Black Country, New Road. Extremely verbose and very British, For the first time is a wonderful debut that sees a band unflinchingly committed to their post-punk aesthetic. The record kicks off with “Instrumental,” which is a borderline post-rock track centered around a needly Klezmer riff, frantic drumming, and woeful saxophone. That opening salvo paves the way for ranting tales of science fair downfalls, romantic French encounters, and escaping behind the faint veneer offered by a pair of sunglasses. The lyrics include references to six-part Danish crime dramas, matcha shots, NutriBullets, and micro-influencers, all of which are delivered in a shaky, unstable vibrato that makes it sounds as if the narrator could burst at the seams at any minute. Though the release may only contain six songs, the 40-minute running time leaves the listener emotionally winded in its wake. 

Wild Pink - A Billion Little Lights

Royal Mountain Records

When I first heard Wild Pink’s breakthrough sophomore album, Yolk In The Fur,  it felt like a revelation. Heartland rock with a jangly indie rock twist and just a drop of emo? Not only did it feel tailor-made for me, but it was unlike anything I’d ever heard before. In fact, go back and read the July 2018 equivalent of this monthly roundup, and my excitement is still palpable. Three years later, A Billion Little Lights takes that sound and offers up more of the same. At first, the worst thing I could say about the new Wild Pink album is that it sounded exactly like the last Wild Pink album. That’s not a bad thing, just a little unexciting. Then I put the record on while driving, and boom, it came alive. As I flew down the highway, the album seemed to bloom around me, rising and falling with the hills off in the distance. It felt like that’s how these songs were meant to be heard. Of course listening to these songs alone in my apartment wasn’t going to hit the same. 

At times on songs like “Oversharers Anonymous,” it still sounds like I’m listening to something that could have come straight off of Yolk, but I don’t think that’s inherently bad. There are some cool, unique moments like a weird glitchy synth-based breakdown in “The Shining but Tropical” and a cathartic finish on “Die Outside,” and sometimes that’s all you need. If this is your first experience with Wild Pink, I emphatically recommend listening to this album and absorbing it fully, especially if you're moving somewhere with a purpose.

Katy Kirby - Cool Dry Place

Keeled Scales

Out of all the artists releasing warm, sunny, brightly colored albums this month, Katy Kirby might have released the most exciting and dynamic. While Wild Pink takes a more wide-open heartland rock approach and Sun June affects a more pensive, inward style, Katy Kirby uses a lush and expansive sound to examine the fragility of human relationships. Whether it’s the tasteful use of autotune on “Traffic!” or the spellbinding build on “Secret Language,” nearly every track on Cool Dry Place offers something different. The songs are all bound together by the common denominator of Kirby’s affectionate delivery and soft production. The end result is a pleasant and inoffensive album that also offers a surprisingly deep and layered reflection. As Cool Dry Place winds from light indie rock to late-afternoon piano ballads, you can’t help but be taken in by the breadth of emotions contained within the record’s mere 28 minutes. 

Mister Goblin - Four People in an Elevator and One of Them Is the Devil

Exploding In Sound Records

Do you like Pedro the Lion? Do you remember Devil, the 2010 M. Night Shyamalan movie where five people are trapped in an elevator, and one of them also happens to be the devil? If you answered ‘yes’ to both of these questions, then you are in the very specific cross-section that Mister Goblin is speaking to. Despite the overly specific target market that I just laid out, an intimate familiarity with either of these subjects is not a pre-requisite to enjoying the sophomore album from the Two Inch Astronaut frontman. Some of the tracks like “Get Gone” call to mind a particular brand of light-hearted and good-natured indie rock evocative of Brendan Benson. Aside from the aforementioned Pedro the Lion, this release also feels tonally-reminiscent of early-2000s Vagrant rockers like The Anniversary, the Get Up Kids, or the New Amsterdams. It’s an album that’s sonically unbothered but lyrically distraught, a beguiling mixture that proved to be a fantastic first listen. 

Miss Grit - Impostor

Self-Released

Easily my biggest surprise of this month, Impostor is a fantastically diverse and economical EP that manages to sound simultaneously familiar and wholly unique. After a glitchy and off-kilter electronic opener that undercuts any preconceptions, “Buy The Banter” deploys a heavily fuzzed-out bassline and hypnotic chorus for a grungy Garbage effect. “Blonde” begins with a crystal clear instrumental and Mazzy Star-esque vocals before growing into a towering Smashing Pumpkins riff and fading into a dreamy outro. There’s the dancy “Grow Up To,” the chunky “Dark Side of the Party,” and the starry-eyed title track. Despite how unique all of these songs sound, they still feel unabashedly committed to Margaret Sohn’s vision. This is a fantastic and uncompromising EP that offers comforting familiarity wrapped around sounds that feel like a breath of fresh air.

Mogwai - As The Love Continues

Rock Action Records

Mogwai have been a musical companion of mine for about a decade now. Ever since I first discovered Come On Die Young back in high school, I’ve been a diehard fan of the Scottish post-rock stalwarts. In fact, Mogwai has a special place in this blog’s history as our first ever article, though I don’t necessarily recommend you go back and read that. As The Love Continues takes the collection of sounds that Mogwai has spent 25 years cultivating and hones them to a fine point. All the usual Mogwai trappings are here: a groovy electronic cut, the uptempo dance track, unforgettable vocoder usage, the song with vocals, and, perhaps most importantly, the distorted heavy-as-shit riff. The band is able to take all of these different approaches to the genre and cram them into a one-hour thrill ride that oscillates from triumphant to despair to destructive and back again multiple times over the course of its run time. Simply put, they don’t miss.

Quick Hits

Hayley Williams - FLOWERS for VASES / descansos - A second, more subtle solo outing from the Paramore bandleader that’s a little more acoustic than last year’s Petals for Armor, but still just as deeply felt. 

Skatune Network - Ska Goes Emo, Vol. 2 - Another collection of iconic tracks spanning multiple waves of emo, all adorned with horns and upstrokes courtesy of the DIY ska mastermind Jeremy Hunter.

Cory Wong - Cory and the Wongnotes - Another funky outing from one of the highly prolific minds behind Vulfpeck.

The Obsessives - Monastery - A pleasant three-track pop-rock outing that’s capped off with a wonderful Breeders cover.

For Your Health - In Spite Of - In the same class as Portrayal of Guilt, For Your Health offer up brutal and visceral hardcore that thrives in garages, basements, and other places you might accidentally get punched in the face.

Sun June - Somewhere - Are you more of a Jackie O or a Karen O? Well, on Somewhere Sun June argues you can be both, but only if it’s in service of love. 

Another Michael - New Music and Big Pop - A blissful, colorful, and lovely collection of tracks that oscillate between unbothered and crushingly realistic. A musical Starburst. 

Cassandra Jenkins - An Overview on Phenomenal Nature - yet another of this month’s pleasant, naturalistic albums, this one with gorgeous sax, therapeutic exercises, and one of the best wah-wah deployments I’ve heard since Childish Gambino’s “The Night Me and Your Mama Met.”

Jetty Bones - Push Back - Somewhere between the neon fake happiness of After Laughter and the immaculate production of Lover-era Taylor Swift is the debut album of Jetty Bones, equal parts danceable and cry-able.

Danny L Harle - Harlecore - 40 minutes of high-energy, high-BPM from the hyperpop-adjacent happy hardcore electronic musician.

God Is An Astronaut - Ghost Tapes #10 - Proficient post-rock that leans toward progressive heavy metal.

Adrian Younge - The American Negro - One of the most powerful albums I’ve heard in years yet am wholly unqualified to speak on. 

Black Sheep Wall - Songs for the Enamel Queen - Incredible hardcore that winds from towering soul-destroying breakdowns, throat-shredding screams, and winding atmospheric passages.

Of Mice & Men - Timeless - Three metalcore songs that swing hard but don’t always land.

Julien Baker - Little Oblivions - The first full-band album from Julien Baker hits all the marks you would expect: religion, queerness, and crippling self-doubt. 

Nervous Dater - Call In The Mess - Poppy emo rock that stretches all the way from earthly farms to the far reaches of outer space.

The Weather Station - Ignorance - An earthy and emotional indie rock album that feels like the nighttime counterpart to Saint Cloud’s sunshine.

American Poetry Club - Do You Believe In Your Heart - A distraught emo EP that feels like it could collapse at any moment under its own emotional weight.

Nick Cave & Warren Ellis - Carnage - A surprise-released album from Nick Cave and a single Bad Seed.

Cloud Nothings - The Shadow I Remember - Hard-charging punk rock in the vein of Titus Andronicus or Japandroids, just with a more naturalistic bent. 

Glitterer - Life is Not A Lesson - A dozen under-two minute cuts from the Title Fight frontman.

King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard - L.W. - The second microtonal half of a double album from the ever-prolific and ever-psychedelic Aussies.

Half Waif - Orange Blossoms / Party’s Over - Two fresh tracks from the witchy and dancy electronica queen.

Someone Once Told Me 001 – Nicole Boychuk (I Hate Sex, Illustrator)

In the first few bitter cold months of the past, wretched year I found myself chatting with a friend about how much we mutually disliked Midsommer (2019). After sharing a couple laughs over the half-baked plotline, we started to steer in to more vested conversation (the kind where one walks away learning something they will always keep with them) where I was first told something I would think about each day after: "Your friends are your future".

The above-mentioned friend-in-conversation is Nicole Boychuk. You may know her from past project: I Hate Sex, or her series of illustrations on Instagram, or on a much more personal level lucky enough to call her friend.

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A post shared by nicole boychuk (@nic666le)

Whatever the connection may be, and for whatever reason you may be here reading this; let me be the first to welcome you to Someone Once Told Me. Short-form conversations with artists and creatives about the best advice they've ever received. 

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Alex Couts: Let's start with some history. Who told you this advice and how do they fit in your life? Where were you when you received this advice?

Nicole Boychuk: The advice came from Nicolas Field, who I met through the community after seeing his band La Luna in 2013. La Luna was the first time I had ever seen someone who looked like me playing aggressive music and having that admiration and inspiration from Vanessa Fever (Vocals in La Luna) compelled me to do the same.

Over time, due to the remote nature of Alberta, IHS and La Luna formed a strong touring bond with one another, sharing each others' cities weekend after weekend and being perpetually inspired by the community they were experiencing and the art they were creating.

Eventually, La Luna moved their operation to Toronto and Nicolas and Vanessa became a part of the beloved New Friends Fest. In 2018, IHS was able to play their final show as NFF headliner. After flying in a couple days ahead of the rest of the band, Nicolas and I were on our way to the airport for them, discussing future endeavors and ambitions.

absorbing the luxury of the moment, Nicolas mentioned in passing "Your friends are your future" while talking about the insanity that we were even able to be there--doing music at such a complete level--entirely because of the steps we had taken in one another's lives.

That is what caused me to think more about what had happened entirely leading up to where I was in that moment. That there would never be any possibility of doing anything like this without the engagement of friends. Fully understanding the weight of the connections and people that you will meet, and how they will inform the steps you take to the different places in your life.

I need to mention this isn't networking or some business connection, this is about seeking the company you keep to be there to build you up and help you grow due to the love that they are there to show you. It's about finding the people in your life that will mean the most to you and working hard to keep them there.

A: Noting that IHS is much a past part of your life, how do you find yourself applying the advice forward in your life?

N: IHS is a closed chapter of my own life now, that has its own fondness and nostalgia, so the phrase takes on a new meaning for me than it did in that moment when I first heard it.

I think of it as a measure of mindfulness, returning to it most when watching the shallow performance of social media unfold in front of me most days. I see people engaging with others across platforms, with clear intentions of their statements and actions being only for personal gain.

There's a lot of concern coming from people to be strongly individualistic, and present that forward as much as they can through platforms. From my view, it would seem like we could all learn to be better to one another if there was effort to be less individualistic and focus on connecting with people in whole ways and be able to look back on things with sentiment.

This interview for example; I am not thinking about this as "Alex is going to write about me and my band and then so many people are going to read it and the art is going to be so much more popular," .. I am thinking about waking up tomorrow morning being happy that we got to spend this time together to talk about something meaningful and sentimental we share with one another and be that much closer because of it. There is a rather simplistic nature to it all, and the value of the moment in connection and what that adds to the foundation of our relationship is much more important to me than whatever may become of this piece.  

A: You drew the intentions of this series right out of me. The whole reason I started this was to create focused opportunities to have engaging and meaningful conversations with friends, strangers, and whoever else has something to share. I'm not here for personal gain, and the goal of putting better advice into the world is only secondary. Maybe it's selfish, but I mostly want to hear what my friends have to say about their life experiences. SOTM is just a catalyst to have that conversation.

A: Who needs to hear this advice? What kind of resolve do you imagine this bringing to someone hearing it for the first time?

N: I think people exploring new creative ventures, especially those with a method of exchange in some way, would benefit from hearing this the most. Especially after this past year, people will need this idea re-enforced after being so distant from one another, and not having as immediately apparent feelings of community and friends.

It hasn't been as easy to see the little red strings that connect us through everything this past year.

A: red strings?

N: Like a PI mapping out their investigation. Think about it this way: if one of us is at the top of the mountain, whatever accomplishment that is, everyone that was involved or we experienced in getting there are the stones that lead us up the path. I'm thinking a lot about Tim Richard right now, who was like IHS's secretary.

... the I Hate Sex-cretary..

A: nice.

N: We would spend eight or so hours a day together through classes in university, which is how we came to know one another and he came to be involved with the band. He was never an "official" member, but IHS would have never been what it was without his efforts. He put together promo materials, did merch, came to countless shows, helped us out with places to sleep. We would have never survived as a band if it weren't for the kindness and love that Tim showed us. If that relationship never existed, none of IHS would have been known for what it is.

A: Let's wrap everything here together with one last present, future outlook: how has this advice influenced how you live and interact with others?

N: I think the way the advice has impacted me is putting value in the connections and the little red strings that connect all of us, and create something bigger than any of our respective individuality.

Lately, I've been hard at work putting together a discography release and have learned that the process is leaning on those past relationships more now than ever. Feeling much as if there is no reason why anyone should be helping out with this, but finding that they are because of the cemented and personal natures of our relationships. There are so many people out there in the world, some I've never even met in person, that are willing to give parts of themselves to this effort.

It's been a gift to realize so fully that the people you surround yourself with, and have made it into your circle, are there for a reason. They are choosing to be there to share their kindness and love with you because of the love that you have shown them, and that beauty is so needing to be appreciated.
I made a tweet earlier this year (and then probably deleted it) during a rougher time that read something like: "there are people in your life who put up with your shitty existence for whatever reason, you need to thank them for that."

A: retweet.

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I Hate Sex was a screamo band from Edmonton, and Nicole Boychuk is the bleeding heart of meaningful connection that anchored the group's sound over the years. As written in the sacred scripture of skramz and needs to be remembered now more than ever: "skramz is for friends, but there is no happy here"

Someone Once Told Me is a collection of conversations with artists and creatives about the best life advice they have ever received. Our logo is by Nicole Boychuk and my name is Alex Couts and I'd love to hear what you have to say. Drop a line on Twitter @VirusesForFree or just shout profanities at me from a moving car. Both are equally effective. 

Niiice. Kiss 2020 Goodbye with Explosive New Single "$20 Mints"

This one took me by surprise. Minnesota rockers Niiice. are well known for their hard-hitting Midwest emo tunes and always-entertaining internet presence (Twitter account #3 still going strong!), but what they deliver on their new single “$20 Mints” is a refreshing new tone for the group. Don’t let the compact package fool you; Roddie, Sage, and Abe make a hell of a statement in just one minute and twenty-four seconds.

The tune kicks off with overlaid guitar feedback and a wonderful sample of Michael Scott at his financial rock bottom before it quickly breaks into form with crunchy strings anchored by a tom-heavy drum beat. This dark and full-bodied sound fits perfectly with the lead vocals, which soar over the heavy but restrained instrumentals. Before too long, the sound starts building in volume and intensity, then explodes into a ferocious chorus featuring some phenomenal screams from Roddie. As quickly as the song gets going, its climax comes quickly and transitions directly into a swift ending. “$20 Minds” is a tune with no fat on its bones; it’s a great show of a band committing, throwing themselves at a track, and burning through it.

Despite its unexpected style, “$20 Mints” isn’t a brand-new song, as evidenced by the live recordings of it that date back as far as summer 2018. The song’s namesake comes from a marijuana-rich tour through Chicago with fellow Minnesotans Harper’s Jar, who put out a fantastic single “Ode to Space Lady” earlier this year. The fact that “$20 Mints” has been rattling around in the band’s toolkit for a while suggests that this may not be a complete shift in direction for Niiice., although it’s a welcome addition to their impressive output as of late. Only a few months off the heels of their LP, Internet Friends, “$20 Mints” contributes a slow and heavy sound to Niiice.’s catalog that I’d definitely encourage everyone to check out. The band keeps their edge while delivering a perfect slow-burn that blows up into one of the best barnburners of the year so far. When live shows return, this will be a song to go absolutely nuts to, and I for one, can’t wait.

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Jack Hansen-Reed is an avid music fan from Omaha, Nebraska with a passion for all things DIY. In his free time he enjoys sticking it to the man, cheering on the Cubbies, and drumming in indie-americana act Bearwithus. Send him any music recommendations on Twitter at @jhansenreed.

Finding Balance Amidst Chaos - An Interview with Portrayal of Guilt

Photo: Addrian Jafaritabar

Content Warning: This article discusses themes of self-harm and suicide.

It’s very easy to get hung up trying to describe the sound of Portrayal of Guilt. Is this hardcore? Perhaps it’s black metal? Could it even be screamo? Ultimately, these questions are merely distractions because all that really matters is that the music is straight-up brutal. The band is adept when it comes to infusing their caustic fury with elements of hardcore, black metal, harsh noise, even ambient, and their sophomore LP, We Are Always Alone, is a perfect distillation of this collage. 

“The Second Coming” kickstarts the album with dizzying riffs and thunderous blast beats that prop up Matt King’s throat-shredding snarls. In just thirty-three seconds, the song shifts to a refrain that is indebted to screamo before a coda of eerie ambient sounds wraps up the track. In just one minute and thirty-nine seconds, Portrayal of Guilt is able to deliver a thesis of who they are as a band; they make music that is intense, loud, challenging yet rewarding, and most importantly, downright evil. 

The album is a document displaying how Portrayal of Guilt has grown as a band. Let Pain Be Your Guide, the group’s debut album, drew the blueprint of what was to come; it’s a hardcore album that dabbles with foreign sonic textures. We Are Always Alone finds Portrayal of Guilt in a state of balance as its influences come in and out of focus, serving the songs with efficiency. 

It must also be noted that Matt King’s lyrics are incredibly sharp on We Are Always Alone. While at times challenging to decipher due to his visceral shrieks, King’s songwriting explores themes of despair, pain, and death. “My Immolation” tells the story of a person who is dissatisfied with their life and resorts to burning themself alive in their house. King examines this sorrow with unflinching clarity singing, “I’ve never felt so alive. / My vision fades away as I watch my skin and bones melt / away and turn to ash. / This is where I belong.” It’s a bleak and harrowing sentiment. While many of the songs could be seen as suicidal, King is in no way glorifying self-harm; rather, he is analyzing the emotional and mental anguish of a person struggling with such thoughts.

These lyrical motifs help to bolster the sonic menace created by the band, resulting in a listening experience that is taxing yet gratifying. Portrayal of Guilt brings a lot to the table; the lyrics are dour but sharp, and the instrumentation is abrasive and exhilarating, this allows listeners to view their work from myriad angles. Personally, I was introduced to the band from a metal perspective, and I found the genre tag to be fitting. It’s exciting when a band can be embraced and shared by fans of multiple scenes. While the group might not be a crossover act in the traditional sense, they are a band that moves between subgenres without alienating fans. No matter how you view them or what genre you ascribe to Portrayal of Guilt, all that matters is how hard We Are Always Alone rips.

To get a sense of where the band is coming from, we spoke with Portrayal of Guilt’s singer and guitarist, Matt King.

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The band’s genre and sound always seems to be a hot topic when you are being talked about. With the release of We Are Always Alone, it’s easy to see why people are so interested in this discussion as the album features elements of black metal, hardcore, harsh noise, and ambient, yet you have previously stated that, to you, Portrayal of Guilt merely is punk. What does it mean to you to be punk and to make punk music?
Punk, in my opinion, means having complete artistic freedom, where no preconceived rules or ideas exist. Creating something out of nothing based solely on what you enjoy and completely ignoring any thoughts or opinions on the outside while holding nothing back. Just genuinely doing you. That's just my first thought. We're not trying to please anyone, we're just having fun and doing what we want to do, no exceptions.

As a follow-up, what do you think of fans’ discussion of your genre and sound? To me, it shows the band’s versatility and appeal.
I think it's funny as much as it is interesting to see what people think about what we're doing. None of it matters, though we appreciate anyone taking the time to listen to us and give their thoughtful opinion. Call it black metal, hardcore, whatever. None of it is taken into consideration.

Many of the songs on We Are Always Alone are longer than those on previous releases while also seemingly pulling from more genres than before. Was this a conscious effort on your part to go longer and diversify your sound, or was it more of a natural progression?
It was 100% natural progression. Personally, my attention span is so short I can't even get through longer songs as a listener, so the fact we were able to put together a 4+ minute song is pretty incredible.

Your lyrics are often bleak and brutal, featuring themes focused on depression, failure, pain, and suffering. When it comes to constructing a song, do you write lyrics to serve the sound of the music, or is the music meant to serve the anguish depicted in the lyrics?
The lyrics are written and then altered to cater to the music when it comes time to record, though those are two completely separate things.

Texas has a rich punk and metal history. Do you see yourselves as descendants of previous Texan bands and scenes? If so, do you draw inspiration from any of these bands, and is there a certain amount of pride in being known as a Texan band?
No, not really. I can't say we were ever embraced by the scene here, but that might be by choice. We have made a point to follow our own path, although we have massive respect for the Texan bands before us. We will always claim Texas, of course. That's where we're from.

We Are Always Alone was released by Closed Casket Activities, but you also operate your own label, Portrayal of Guilt Records. What made you want to start your own label? What can we expect from future releases?
It has been a goal since we started to operate as a band and as a label, where we're able to release our own records as well as records for our friends and affiliates. We're working on creating our own realm. I only started taking the label seriously as of a couple of months ago, but you can expect multiple cassette and vinyl releases down the line from those friends and affiliates. I'm looking forward to seeing how far we can take this idea.

The album was recorded during the pandemic, and the idea of the “pandemic album” seems to be discussed ad nauseam, yet it holds some merit as every person is affected by the pandemic. Is We Are Always Alone a response to the pandemic in any sort of way?
Not at all. We wrote this album months before the idea of an upcoming worldwide pandemic existed, although it was recorded at the beginning of the lockdown in our area. Perhaps that had an effect on the energy presented within.

With touring postponed for the foreseeable future, are you pivoting to other methods such as livestreams in order to promote the album?
I don't really like the idea of a livestream, personally. We recorded and edited a video of ourselves playing a few songs recently, but even then, it was nowhere near the same energy as a live show. We'd prefer just to wait it out. With no touring going on, it helps us focus on writing for more upcoming releases, which we have planned for the rest of the year.

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Connor lives in San Francisco with his partner and their cat, Toni. Connor has an MFA in creative writing and is working toward becoming a community college professor. When he isn’t listening to music or writing about killer riffs, Connor is obsessing over coffee and sandwiches.

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