Swimming Abroad: International Music Roundup

To quote Frank Reynolds, “you have to be a real low-life piece of shit to get involved in politics.” I think the same thing applies to being overly patriotic, especially now, as the United States Government proudly rolls out our very own concentration camp and revokes healthcare for millions upon millions of its own citizens. Shit’s fucked in every direction, so Independence Day doesn’t feel like a whole lot to celebrate. 

To me, the Fourth of July begins and ends with barbequing hot dogs, drinking some beers, and jumping in the pool, and guess what? I did all that shit yesterday. While last year we had a fun BBQ music roundup on the Fourth, this year we thought the holiday might be a fun excuse to highlight some of our favorite music projects from other countries. 

Please enjoy the music, please celebrate responsibly, and please consider the role we all play in this. 


baan – neumann

Self-released

The universality of music is one of the most beautiful things about humanity. A sound can be shaped in Philadelphia, and years later, a band from Namibia has made it their entire style. When it comes to heavy music, some of the most incredible records made often lie outside of American audiences’ line of sight; however, within the internet era, we are seeing a globalization of art that rocks at unprecedented levels in human history. Enter baan from Busan, South Korea—a band as heavy and thunderous as they are deft and talented. neumann is a journey–nine tracks with entire realms existing within them. In an era where playlists and short-form songs are championed across the music industry, an album that offers depth AND patience can feel very rare, especially when it can actually alter your perception of time. There were more than a few times where a song on neumann felt like a meditative 15 minutes when it really was less than that, or conversely, felt over in moments for tracks that ran over six minutes. An album that, whether it likes it or not, is as thoroughly about the act of listening as it is about the haunting abstraction of being alive in modern times, baan’s first release is dense, heady, and a prime example of how musicians outside of the states are just as worthy of our curiosity and attention as any here at home.
– Elias Amini


Sport – In Waves 

La Tête d’Ampoule

The “Midwest” part of “Midwest Emo Revival” really has nothing to do with geography. It’s a holdover from the second wave of emo, known simply as “Midwest Emo,” which happened mostly in the 90s. Back then, a lot of popular acts really were from the heartland (also a lot weren’t, but hey, the name stuck). In the late 2000s and throughout the 2010s, that sound was revived by bands from all over, including those outside the US. Between 2011 and 2016, Sport cooked up three emo albums from Lyon, France. Even an ocean away, they brought every bit the same energy, talent, and quintessential sound as bands like Algernon Cadwallader and Glocca Morra—and after nine years, they’re back with another. 

In Waves is aptly named. Each song swells, crests, crashes, and regathers itself in troughs of lingering reminiscence. Their sound is full-bodied, with gang vocals punching through walls of angular riffs, twinkling arpeggiations, and dynamic percussion. Though they skew towards math rock, Sport is unmistakably emo. Between the poetic verses and impressive wordplay, you can hear the mourning of days gone by and anxiety for the future. At the same time, you hear catharsis, conviction, and a passion for life. 

Sport’s 4th album is for every emo enjoyer; it expands on themes from previous albums and breathes new life into their discography. In a recent interview, Sport says they picked their name because it’s the same in most languages. This global mindset has paid off, rekindling the flame of Midwest Emo abroad and exemplifying the benefits of seeking inspiration beyond your own borders.
– Braden Allmond


Whispers – Yom-Ma-Lok

Flatspot Records

I personally and bravely believe that the best way to experience hardcore punk music is to see it live. I don’t think anyone has discoursed about this yet, but I’ll give it time. My point is that while I had heard about the release of Yom-Ma-Lok at the buzzer of 2024 (and read a Stereogum comment summarizing it as a “yuletide ass kicking”) nothing could have prepared me for the swaggering way Whispers took the stage at Black Cat a couple months ago. At the first cymbal crash, the whole room was suddenly engulfed in the sound, drenched in their self-described “Bangkok Evilcore,” like when the air gets sucked out right before there’s an explosion. Every molecule of oxygen in the room was reverberating with their metallic sprawl and pounding with crushing blast beats. 

Whispers, a very kickass crew from Thailand, released their latest EP, Yom-Ma-Lok, in December, a relatively long project with features from members of Kickback, Demonstration of Power, and hardcore’s it boys, Speed. There’s a certain magnitude to it, an ascension, as the band oscillates between brawling beatdowns and sweaty anthems. The EP relentlessly pummels the listener, but when I saw it live, the listeners pummeled each other back.

I would also be remiss not to mention that, as of today, my favorite Mancunian lads are back. That’s right, unless the Gallaghers have called it quits between the editing and publishing of this piece, Oasis should be taking the stage in a couple of hours. I’m feelin’ Supersonic mates.
– Caro Alt


racecarbed – bozo

AboutTime Records

In an effort to continually prove myself to be the most esoteric woman at any gathering, I will spend untold time going on musical deep dives online. Call it pretentious, but that’s showbiz, baby! That’s music journalism! That’s my RIGHT! Thus, in the spirit of my deep love for underground music, I would like to bring bozo by racecarbed to everyone’s immediate attention. I may be pretentious, but I’m not a gatekeeper. racecarbed is an artist and producer based in Ireland, creating incredibly delightful music across the pond that has made its way to my ears. If you enjoy hyperpop, noise, emo, digicore, and random sampling, boy, are you in for a treat. If you don’t enjoy any of those things, why are you here? Why are you reading this? Why are you looking at me like that? Go listen to racecarbed anyway! One of my favorite tracks from bozo, “Family Guy Funny Moments” is a painfully honest song, uncomfortably juxtaposed against - you guessed it - a sample of Family Guy. A beautiful and rather heart-wrenching synth melody immediately follows, causing emotional whiplash that is jarring in all the right ways. The shift from Peter Griffin to an evocative riff is, as it turns out, a bit of a shock. While the hyperpop genre often runs the risk of becoming overwhelming and too noisy, racecarbed exercises just enough restraint in his writing to create skillfully balanced digital masterpieces. Anyways, it’s time for you to leave me alone - I’m at the function reading Infinite Jest.
– Britta Joseph


Subsonic Eye – Singapore Dreaming

Topshelf Records

The title for Subsonic Eye’s fifth album, Singapore Dreaming, telegraphs pretty clearly exactly what you’re going to get. Press play on the opening track “Aku Cemas,” and you’re in for 30 minutes of dreamy, overly-saturated rock music straight from Singapore. It’s a consistently pretty album; colorful and well-constructed is the default baseline, even when the band is singing in Malay. By the time the band launches into the riff one track later on “Why Am I Here,” you’re already firmly situated in indie rock heaven. As the purple, yellow, and red from the cover bleed together, everything shifts into focus, then back out. Listening to an album like this feels like eating a good hearty meal; you walk away with every need met.
– Taylor Grimes


Crayon Cats – Songs About You! #2 

Self-released

There is nothing I love more in the world than an earnestly cute jangly pop-punk band, and no one is doing it better than Crayon Cats on Songs About You! #2. The band, who hail from Jakarta, Indonesia, nailed this sound on the first entry of this EP series back in September 2024, but on #2, Crayon Cats have even sharper songs and starker dynamics. The ramshackle pop-punk laments of “October Girlfriend” are juxtaposed with the hazier, dreamier side of indie pop on “Hospital Hopper.” The latter track is competing with “Not The Best Day” from their EP for the title of my favorite Crayon Cats song, in large part because of how brilliantly the band lets the song comedown. After two minutes of exemplifying the fear that builds while accompanying a loved one to the hospital in an emergency, the guitars crack into a vacuum cleaner whir until it all crashes down and ebbs out. In that comedown of fading distortion and reverb, the band captures what it’s like to sit in the hallway waiting for the results. After two sets of Songs About You!, I will continue to listen to any other songs Crayon Cats have to about you.
– Lillian Weber


Mantar – Post Apocalyptic Depression

Metal Blade

When I discovered German metal duo Mantar this year, there were two things I found completely unfathomable: first, that they weren’t an obscure ‘70s occult rock group based on their simple yet fantastic logo, and second, that I hadn’t discovered them until this year. The band feels like they were concocted in a lab just for me, scratching my deep itches of other two-piece sludge metal bands like Big Business or Eagle Twin, albeit with a more direct psychedelic lean. Post Apocalyptic Depression could be the best album title of 2025, if it didn’t feel like our collective depression was more mid-apocalyptic, but it’s at least refreshing that the songs therein are nothing short of badass stoner punk’n’roll, well-suited for fans of other underground European metal acts like Kvelertak or Barren Womb. Lead single and album closer “Cosmic Abortion” (again, these guys really know how to make a great title), its lo-fi, space-trip music video, and chorus lyrics, “KILL, DESTROY, FUCK SHIT UP” made Mantar an instant sell for me, with Post Apocalyptic Depression becoming one of my earliest favorite albums of 2025.
– Logan Archer Mounts


Spirit Desire – Pets

Maraming Records

With a decade of indie emo tunes under their belt, Spirit Desire have little to prove to anyone anymore. Pets is the band’s first release in a few years, a ten-minute offering comprised of three absolutely knockout songs and one instrumental interlude. While the opener, “Dead Pets,” is a great introduction that dives directly into the title at hand, it’s the propulsive “IDFC” that reveals itself as the true standout. The Toronto group offers a complimentary and affirmative palate cleanser with “It Is What It Is,” sending listeners off with some well-wishes until our paths converge again. The whole release is tender, open-hearted, catchy, energetic, and earnest; pound-for-pound, one of the best things I’ve heard all year, with not a second wasted. For as many ideas and riffs and harmonies as Spirit Desire have been able to pack in these ten minutes, I think you’d be hard-pressed to find a better EP in the rock music sphere.
– Taylor Grimes


The Tubs – Cotton Crown 

Trouble In Mind Records

I am once again asking for your listening support of UK’s jangle pop quartet all-stars, The Tubs. I recently saw their show live and in color in Chicago, which has further solidified my aspirations to be treasurer of their soon-to-be-created fan club. Cotton Crown is packed to the brim with energetic, uptempo guitar strokes to circumvent the melancholy, glum lyrics of vocalist Owen Williams. Throughout The Tubs’ sophomore album, Williams’ deep, love-scorned voice is a soothing siren that comforts you while he spills his guts out about lost relationships and the tragic, untimely death of his mother. Each song is a fascinating case study in successfully masking the deeply personal lyrics of Williams, which often venture into darkness with a bright, sunny disposition of music. “Chain Reaction” and “Illusion” surf on nonstop tidal waves of jangle pop guitar strings. Cotton Crown doesn’t have a dull moment in its brief twenty-nine-minute runtime. The Tubs have the energy of an early 2000s Four Loko with the passion of a grief-stricken poet, making this an instant favorite of mine. 
– David Williams

The Faux 8 Diaries

Have you ever seen that video of a guy dancing alone at a music festival? It’s broad daylight in a wide-open field. Some people sit scattered around on blankets, but there he stands, dancing all alone, waving his arms like a wacky waving inflatable arm flailing tube man, grooving out in the truest sense of the word. Eventually, another guy wanders over and starts busting out his funkiest moves, and all of a sudden, this shirtless dude who was standing off by himself is now dancing with someone. Then another person joins in, and three is a crowd. Shortly after that, another couple of people come up, then a group of three. Soon, the mass is growing too fast to count. By the end of the video, people are running towards the crowd, eager to join the actively expanding dance floor. That’s what Fauxchella feels like.

For the uninitiated, Faux (fka Fauxchella) is a DIY/emo/punk music festival in Bowling Green, Ohio, organized by the now-defunct house venue The Summit Shack. While the first two incarnations were hosted at The Shack, all of the following Fauxchellas (plus a few seasonal offshoots) have taken place at Howard’s Club H, a 200-cap dive bar with two stages, $3 PBRs, and $2 shots. Hell yeah. Previous iterations of the fest have included the likes of Origami Angel, Ben Quad, saturdays at your place, Michael Cera Palin, and so many goddamn more. I’m not being hyperbolic at all when I say that it’s basically heaven on earth if you like fast music and guitar tapping. 

If you’re interested in learning more about the history of Fauxchella and The Summit Shack, a couple of years ago, I conducted a long-form interview with Conor Alan, which serves as a retrospective of the festival in all its iterations. There’s also a big recap I did on Fauxchella VI, complete with lots of video footage of different sets.

This June, I made the 12-hour drive up to Bowling Green for Faux 8, because this was one I could not miss. First and foremost, this was set to be the last Fauxchella at Howard’s, given that the fest has long outgrown the confines of the dive bar’s charming sticker-covered walls. Musically, I was excited to catch sets from old faves like Equipment, Summerbruise, and Kerosene Heights. There were also many bands on this year’s lineup I was ecstatic to catch for the first time, like Waving, 95COROLLA, Fend, red sun, and Keep for Cheap. On top of all this, the lineup for day two felt like a miniature sequel to Liberation Weekend, featuring the likes of Pretty Bitter, Ekko Astral, and Home Is Where

Home Is Where

Since I just published a big write-up on Liberation Weekend, I wanted to do something different for Faux and not just go through the lineup band by band. Swim was also tabling the event, slinging shirts, totes, lighters, and cool little zines, so I knew I’d be too busy to realistically catch every set. Instead, I brought my trusty digi cam and tried my best to snap pics of every set and merch spread, plus some cool portraits of band members. Esteemed members of the Swim Team, Josh Ejnes and Ben Parker, were also on-site, so you’ll find their thoughts on each day below, plus some other surprises. 

Thanks to Conor, Ellie, Jake, Mike, Sergei, Trey, Nick, Jacob, and all the people who make it possible to put an event like this together. It truly takes a village, and it’s been an absolute blessing to join in and be a part of it. Faux forever. 


Faux[DACTED]

Before we get any further into this article, we should address the name of the festival. While the previous seven iterations of the fest were named “Fauxchella,” this year’s iteration was unceremoniously re-titled “FAUX 8.” That’s because, back in April, The Summit Shack received a cease and desist from AEG, the second-largest ticketing company in the world, and, notably, the purveyors of the Coachella music festival. Despite the fact that Coachella is the name of a place, despite the fact that the fest is named after a joke from Workaholics, and despite the fact that “Fauxchella” is a 200-person music festival happening halfway across the country at a college town dive bar in Ohio, AEG still felt the need to sic the lawyers on ‘em. 

The Crowd for FinalBossFight!

In the end, Faux 8 played out exactly like any other Fauxchella would, and nothing sizable changed aside from a knowing gap in the posters that were amended to read “FAUX       8” with a big blank spot. A good handful of the bands poked fun at this from the stage between songs, calling attention to how absurd it is that the people running the $600-a-head Influencer Music Festival were getting litigious and using intimidation tactics on a defunct DIY venue. While I’m glad Faux continued unabated, to me, this just feels emblematic of the way that these giant companies will crush, mangle, and intimidate anyone they can if it means a few extra dollars. The fact that they seemed to take so much glee in threatening a zero-profit emo festival, it’s no wonder why live music is in such a bad spot. Fuck you and your $15 beers. 

Alright, that's enough preamble, let's get into it. 


Josh & Ben on Faux 8: Day One

In all honesty, my specific memories of Faux 8 are few and far between. Edibles are partially responsible for this, but a bigger factor is that—at least for me—enjoyment of an event like Faux comes from surrendering to the experience as a whole rather than latching on to any particular moment. When I try to file things away in my brain for later, I often miss other stuff that’s happening right in front of me, so I prefer instead to just let everything wash over me. One benefit of this approach is that when I do remember something distinct, it means a little more; the imprint a result of organic impact rather than personal diligence. 

The thing that stuck with me the most throughout the first day of Faux 8 was how good the sound was; it kind of didn’t make any sense. Over the two days of the festival, more than 40 bands played half-hour sets in rapid succession, a schedule that doesn’t accommodate typical load-ins or soundchecks. On paper, this should be a recipe for frequent technical issues and a poor mix, but everything sounded great. I’m not even grading on a curve here because of the circumstances; the average Faux set sounds better than what you’d expect to hear at your local venue’s regular shows. I think that this high-quality sound production is an underappreciated element of what makes Faux sets so special. Shout out to Jake Pachasa and Mike Seymour, absolute killers on the boards. 

Boyclothes

There are so many bands out there that I mean to listen to but don’t. I’ll see a band come across my feed, I’ll pull up Tidal to check them out, and then bang, the doorbell rings or my dog needs to go to the bathroom. By the time I come back to the computer, I've forgotten what I was doing, and suddenly I’m listening to the Menzingers for the thousandth time. FinalBossFight! were a frequent victim of this pattern for me; they just kept falling through the cracks. Watching their set on day one of Faux, I felt like an absolute fool for not checking them out sooner; they were so good and 100% in my wheelhouse. A few songs in, I was thinking about how their stripped-down approach to pop-punk kind of reminded me of Joyce Manor, a thought that was immediately followed by their killer cover of “Five Beer Plan.” It was very serendipitous. FBF! are now a band that will forever be in my regular listening rotation, thank you Faux for the introduction.

Another day one highlight for me was Bottom Bracket, a Chicago band I’d listened to a few times but had never managed to catch live. Their set was a way more arresting performance than I was expecting. I can't fathom how someone can play guitar like that and sing so well at the same time. Their set was at 7 pm, which is where I found myself starting to feel the fatigue of the day, but they snapped me right out of it. Good bands I enjoy; great bands send a jolt through me, and Bottom Bracket firmly sit in the latter camp—very cool stuff. 

One of the things I was most looking forward to at the fest was Carly Cosgrove’s performance. This was my first time seeing the band since the release of The Cleanest of Houses Are Empty, and I’ve so badly wanted to yell “You, old, dog, you old dog, you, old, dog, you old dog, you, you old dog, you old dog, you!” in a room full of people since first hearing the record. I finally got to do it at Faux, and it was just as magical as I imagined. Tough to beat seeing a band with a no-skip discography live—great way to cap off the night.
– Josh Ejnes

I am foolishly the kind of person who sees the opportunity to spend a total of 24 hours inside a small dive bar in Ohio and thinks, “How can I spend as much of my time as possible there without leaving?” On day one, I am proud to say I left only once, and that was during the much-earned hour-long break built into the schedule. Even then, I only went next door to a little deli for a chicken sandwich and some waffle fries that were better than they needed to be.  

The real reason I wanted to spend so much time at Faux was not just because of the incredible line-up of bands and absurdly cheap drink prices, but because Faux 8, much like all years prior, is really built on such a small and niche community that unites yearly to dance and drink $3 beers together. Nothing from the day stands out more to me than going around and seeing people from the internet who I have been aware of for a long time and was finally able to meet. 

There is also something really special about attending a festival and being able to get in a moshpit with the same people that you paid money to see. The band members are all running around and taking time to see the sets. It is very rare anymore that you go to a major show and get to actually talk to the folks who are the show. It is one of the things that makes Faux feel like a giant DIY family reunion. 

Bee’s Faux Bucket Hat

There are two bands that I want to take time to talk about, and the first is Later Gator. The Indianapolis emo outfit delivered an incredible side-stage set, despite being in a challenging position, immediately following Topiary Creatures and preceding Bottom Bracket. I was at the first-ever Later Gator show, and to have seen them grow from what they were to a band that can fill the room for a Faux set is incredible. Guitarist Jonathan Bayless and his ability to wield both a guitar and trumpet at the same time is nothing short of wizardry. There were two different covers that the band performed: one was “Higher” by Creed, and the other was a spontaneous, improvised cover of “We Are Young” by fun. that materialized after Bayless broke a string. This band kept the room moving, and it was incredible to see. 

The other band I need to mention is Strelitzia, the Arizona-based math rock group who put on what had to be one of the most special performances of the entire Faux weekend. The band rarely gets out of their home state, let alone all the way to the Midwest, so getting to see them come out and play songs off their 2024 album Winter was nothing short of astounding. I sat there at the front, thrashing around and sobbing the entire set. All I can truly say is if you have the opportunity to see this band, take it, because they are better than anybody could ever tell you.
– Ben Parker


Merch Mayhem

Ever since my first Fauxchella six years ago, I’ve viewed merch as an essential part of this festival’s identity. Bands travel from all over for this fest, many already on tours routed to or from Bowling Green just for Faux. This means that almost every band has merch with them, and at this scale, you’ll never know what you’re gonna get. Free stickers? You bet your ass. Hooters logo rips? Sure, why not. Crocheted alligators? Obviously

Tucked in the back corner of Howard’s main room, spread across two pool tables and half a dozen other surfaces, you will find a packed corner of all the best emo finery you could want. Most bands had shirts and stickers, some of which were custom-made just for this fest. Others offered vinyl records, CDs, tapes, lighters, tapestries, friendship bracelets, and toothbrushes. Several of the bands provided free earplugs, Narcan, drug test kits, Plan B, leftist literature, and wallet-sized cards about how to talk to ICE, as well as other harm-reduction supplies. It was impressive to see all these merch spreads and the infinite ways that artists create beyond the music you hear on the record. Here is a gallery of merch spreads, all photos taken with permission from the bands.
– Taylor Grimes


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Caro’s Warped Tour Report: Day One

Hi Taylor, Josh, and Ben! It’s Caro, and I am on the ground and reporting not-live from that national embarrassment happening in D.C. You know, the first stop of the 30th Anniversary of the Vans Warped Tour. 

The first thing I did was follow a guy smoking a cigarette and wearing a Memphis May Fire hoodie because I thought he would know where the gates were. He didn’t. But, thanks to my bloodhound navigational skills and a giant sign that said “ENTRANCE HERE,” I found the doors. When I approached the security check, they were blasting “Can We Just Get High?” by Carpool. Honestly, I thought I was imagining it for a second, like a desert mirage, heat psychosis already setting in, but it was real and it rocked. It was finally time to take my first steps into the very big parking lot where this was all going down and start paying $18 per tall boy White Claw all weekend. 

The day started with D.C.’s own Origami Angel performing in the first hour slot on one of the main stages to a giant crowd. They played a fuck-this-shit-up version of “Dirty Mirror Selfie” and a “Love Sosa”-infused “Doctor Whomst”. I want to make it clear that people went off for our hometown heroes.

Photo by @realkayls

Publicly, I wrote an article last year about the ascent of saturdays at your place as one of the pillars of contemporary emo — you should read it — so I felt pretty clever when they were announced for Warped Tour. Privately, I’ve had a list on my phone for the past few years called “bands that deserve to have Warped Tour re-invented so they can play in a parking lot at 2 pm,” and saturdays has been on that list since 2023. Hang my byline in the rafters because guess where I was standing at 2:35 pm. Also, why did the founder of Emo Nite walk by me?

saturdays were playing on one of the smaller stages, not the one sponsored by Ghost Energy, not the one sponsored by Beatbox, not the one sponsored by Vans, and not the other one sponsored by Vans. This corner of the festival hosted smaller artists with looser genre affiliations (think local bands like Angel Du$t or legends like Fishbone) and rowdier crowds. In this slice of paradise, saturdays kept the audience locked in through fast jams like their Blink-182-ish “pourover” and the more anthemic songs like “it’s always cloudy in kalamazoo.” The founder of Emo Nite walked by me again. When the band launched into their Certified Emo Classic, “tarot cards,” the crowd reacted accordingly, launching crowdsurfers towards the stage

After saturdays, I walked over to the Vans Left Foot Stage to scope out the crowd and watch Chiodos. Taylor, Josh, and Ben, I am here to say that there were fewer Elder Emo shirts than you would think. I’m assuming that you picture everyone here wearing something like that, but honestly, of the annoying apparel, it’s pretty evenly divided between Elder Emo shirts, Make America Emo Again hats, and It Was Never a Phase patches, but overall, it just wasn’t a lot of people. Everyone else was wearing band shirts or getting a sunburn in tank tops. Also, Chiodos ruled.

Historically, the Vans Warped compilation CD has never cost more than $5, and Smartpunk collaborated with the festival to keep this tradition alive. They also worked with Warped to do a series of less-formal sets under a tent in the middle of an alley of vendors. On Saturday, they showcased local bands like American Television and The Dreaded Laramie, as well as the cannonball-ish local band Combat. Many reading this may remember Combat’s bombastic Faux performance last year, so imagine that, but at literal Warped Tour. They rocked the fuck out, took requests from audience members like Ryland Heagy and Esden Stafne, and started a thrashing moshpit with passerbys from the Sublime and Cartel crowds. 

Photo by Combat

I want to end with this begrudging Day 1 thought: I know it’s easy to be dismissive of the Warped Tour revival. Like I know the jokes write themselves and it’s easy to pick apart, but believe me, your field reporter, the crowd was consistently fucking hyped. For the most part, everyone here paid a lot of money to hear good ass music and good ass music is what they found. Minus Ice Nine Kills.
– Caro Alt


Josh & Ben on Faux 8: Day Two

Trading card trading floor

Went into day two of Faux more tired than I would have liked. I bought a Deal or No Deal DVD game for the trip, sort of as a gag, but my friends and I actually ended up getting quite addicted to it, and our sleep suffered as a result; despite this, I was able to power through and watch some great sets. An earlier-in-the-day favorite of mine was Palette Knife, a late addition to the fest, who had the side stage absolutely rocking. Felt similarly about them as I did Bottom Bracket: how can you play like that and sing like that simultaneously? Doesn’t feel like it should be possible. “Jelly Boi” is one of my favorite emo songs, and I loved hearing it live. Definitely going to be catching Palette Knife next time they’re in Chicago. 

Pretty Bitter’s set at Faux 7 was one of the best of the weekend, so I was super stoked to see that they were on the lineup again for Faux 8. I felt like last year the band didn’t fully get the hype they deserved (partially due to a tough mid day timeslot), so I was really happy to see so many people dancing and singing along as they played this year; it seems like they’re a band whose fanbase is growing exponentially, which I couldn’t be happier to see. Through their set, the band’s new stuff mixed in seamlessly with the old, culminating with an all-out performance of the incredibly hooky “The Damn Thing is Cursed,” which brought the house down. Everyone in Pretty Bitter is a great performer, but at Faux 8, I found myself particularly drawn to their drummer, who was smashing those things and doing all sorts of stick spins and tricks—rockstar stuff, love to see it. 

Pretty Bitter, Pretty much killin’ it

This brings us to my favorite set of the festival: Fend. I don’t think I’d even heard of Fend heading into Faux, and in all honesty, I had intended to skip their set to catch some fresh air before Summerbruise played. As I started to walk by the side stage, the band’s sound pulled me in like a tractor beam; they were unlike anyone else at Faux. I’ve been listening to their record, Disc, pretty much continuously since I got home, I just can’t get over their vocal melodies. Honestly, I wish I had more specific things to say here, but their set put me into a stupor of sorts; my reaction was visceral in a way I struggle to describe. I guess it was kind of like the first time I had Nerds Gummy Clusters and my brain was firing off in ways it hadn’t in years, the result of elements I’m familiar with being put together in a combination I can’t effectively deconstruct. They just sounded awesome. Listen to this band. 

The last day two act that I want to shout out is Leisure Hour, who closed things out on the festival’s side stage. It feels like Leisure Hour have been touring nonstop lately, and their reps on the road are paying off. The band was already great when I first saw them in Chicago last October, but since then, it seems they’ve leveled up even further. The crowd reaction during their closer “jenny” is probably the most hype I saw people get all night, they absolutely owned the space.
– Josh Ejnes

Smash is still a Faux tradition

Much like my peers, I went into day two with little to no sleep. I also overheated on the way in because my friend and I chose to walk the 20 minutes to Faux from the hotel. This was also one of the few times during any fest that I was willing to miss any of the sets, as I was down the road from Howard’s with many Faux attendees for the No King’s Day protest. It was powerful to be there with friends and band members as we all chanted and felt the spirit of protest. It was beautiful, as many Bowling Green locals were out and the streets were lined. I am certain that, of all the things that happened during the weekend, this had to be the most important.

Upon arriving at the festival, I chose to spend my day wandering around and taking time to meet people while passively viewing most of the sets. You kind of hit this realization that you are surrounded by people you won’t see for at least a year, and all you want to do is bask in that community. I took the time to meet the people I was terrified of, such as Mel Bleker from Pretty Bitter, with whom I have developed a friendship over the years on Twitter due to the nature of us both being poets. It led to a beautiful and surreal moment where we were both able to complement each other’s writing and connect as humans. I also got to go with my friend, who had never seen Summerbruise, over to their merch table and talk to Mike, who called me the “Michael Jordan of attending Summerbruise shows.” Being in moshpits and always having a group conversation to walk into is exactly what Faux is about. 

Keep for Cheap

There were many sets from Day Two that I loved, and the first I wanted to touch on is Echo. This is a fascinating band as it is essentially just Summebruise flipped around with the drummer, Stanli, taking over vocals and leading the band. They began with a magical cover of “Shooting Stars” by B.o.B. This stood out to me because I had spent the time walking into the fest joking about the concept of a band playing this song on Twitter. The rest of the set was filled with some fun-filled, ass-throwing emo music that had the kids moving early in the morning, as it was many of the protest group’s first set. 

Another one of the sets I wanted to highlight is Tiny Voices. This set was always going to be different as their vocalist was unable to make the fest, and Luke Ferkovich (Kule, Endswell) was filling in on the mic. The crowd for this set was absolutely raucous and filled the main stage room. I was right at the front, and early on, I got forced onto the stage from the crowd pushing forward, and not once was I able to get off. It is a testament to this band that even without their vocalist, they were able to put on one hell of a show. Half of the vocals were provided by the crowd, as a beautiful cacophony of mic grabs took place repeatedly throughout the entire set. At one point, Luke even went into the crowd and got the whole room moving. It was the kind of set that jumpstarts a band’s momentum, à la Combat at Faux 7.

Jesus was in attendance

The pinnacle of the day for me was getting to see Summerbruise for the 12th time. They are a truly special Indiana band and one of the few things I feel pride for in my home state. This was a strong four-piece Summerbruise lineup, which couldn’t be a full-band set as Mitch Gulish was at Warped Tour playing with saturdays at your place. Summerbruise played all of the hits, and the first moment that stuck out was during “Dead Daddog 20/20” when the entire crowd overpowered vocalist Mike Newman, who broke down into tears on stage. It was a beautiful moment that was well-deserved by a band that has been a mainstay in the Faux lineup over the years. Outside of Equipment, Summerbruise is the Faux band. This group inspires community and supports each other in a way that not many others do. 

Summerbruise was also able to debut their recently released track “Never Bothered,” which really took off at the bridge as around six different band members rushed on stage to grab the mic for backup vocals through the end of the song. The set concluded as many Summerbruise sets do, with Mike introducing “Bury Me at Penn Station” as a song for the community and the people who make these shows worth it (despite it being about his wife). However, this performance was a little different, as Frederick Loeb of Dear Maryanne came onto stage to play guitar, allowing Mike to spend the end of the set in the crowd, connecting with people in a way he usually can’t due to his dual role as a guitarist and singer. Beautiful set from a fantastic band.
– Ben Parker

Summerbruise


///   EDITOR'S CONSOLE   ///

> CONNECTION INTERUPTED...
> RECEIVING TRANSMISSION...

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Caro’s Warped Tour Report: Day 2

Hi Taylor, Josh, and Ben! I respawned in Parking Lot 6 and am once again live from the Bam Margera Look-Alike Convention. The Hot Topic Conference on Reviving Wallet Chains. The Consortium of People Who Loved Illegally Drinking the Original Four Loko. Vans Warped Tour Day 2. And I am here to see motherfucking Carpool. This bit was sponsored by Ghost Energy. #DRINKGHOST

Warped Tour has an infamous no crowdsurfing rule. Obviously, it’s a joke rule that was historically ignored, but that didn’t stop Kevin Lyman and Co. from putting up the old “you mosh, you crowd surf, you get hurt, we get sued, no more Warped Tour" signs. What they didn’t have a sign against was bands jumping into the crowd. Enter Carpool.

Carpool - Photo by Alec Pugliese

Carpool ripped through heaters like “Come Thru Cool,” “I Hate Music,” and “Thom Yorke New City” (thank you again for playing that), but everything came to a boiling point for “The Salty Song” when Stoph Colasanto jumped the barricade to join the crowd, turning the pit into a party. It has long been the belief of this site that Carpool fucking rocks, but this was the pinnacle so far. The only way for Rochester’s rowdiest crew to go is up. (And if you haven’t checked out Pretty Rude’s new album — fix that.)

Now, Taylor, Josh, and Ben, I don’t think anyone I’ve ever bought old band merch off of has ever performed on a festival main stage, but then Eric Egan walked onto the Ghost stage, so I guess I can cross that one off. I know a lot of y’all have watched Heart Attack Man’s rise and might have even caught them at Faux last year, but did you know they also played in 2018 pre-Fake Blood? It’s all pretty cool and even cooler to see a lot of people came to Warped explicitly for Heart Attack Man. 

God bless the state of Oklahoma. That’s all I can think when Cliffdiver starts up. I’ve seen them a lot over the years, but every time I catch them, I can’t help but get completely lost in their positivity and zest for life, despite it all. Like a couple of bands this weekend, Cliffdiver discussed how monumental it felt to be performing at Warped, and it genuinely did feel like an event. After all, how could you not feel important and joyous when Cliffdiver is playing “goin’ for the garbage plate”?

Cliffdiver - Photo by Caitlyn McGonigal

Between Bri Wright’s stage banter and Joey Duffy’s FUCK ICE shirt, Cliffdiver spent a lot of time addressing the political state of things. If you missed the news, Trump held a military parade for his birthday in the city, flooding D.C. with violent dipshits and that tension made its way over to the Festival Grounds of RFK Stadium. All weekend, artists addressed the state of everything: The Wonder Years spoke about trans youth, ICE, and Palestine while Dan Campbell wore a FREE GAZA shirt, Big Ass Truck gave a speech about what they hate, Meredith Hurley from Millionaires wore a Protect Trans Folks shirt, and Buddy Nielsen from Senses Fail addressed the history of sexual assault this festival festered and used his time to advocate for Palestine. This doesn’t even include all the other artists, such as Origami Angel, Scene Queen, Pennywise, Motion City Soundtrack, The Suicide Machines, Red Jumpsuit Apparatus, Magnolia Park, Combat, sace6, and Fever333, and MORE who also dedicated time in their sets to using their voices to advocate for change. This also isn’t even including all of the political conversation happening in the crowds, which largely expressed similar sentiments to these bands and responded with support. 

The MVPs of the whole weekend are easily Leisure Hour, who played Fauxchella Saturday night and dipped down to D.C. to play the Smartpunk tent on Sunday evening. Not to mention that their load-in at Warped Tour was literally through the crowd since they weren’t playing a formal stage. Rock and fucking roll. And I concur with Josh, go listen to “jenny.”

Rain had threatened the entire weekend, and the storm was finally unleashed as Kerosene Heights was taking the stage after their drive from Bowling Green. That didn’t stop anyone from partying; in fact, it got everyone even more excited. I was stopped several times through the set by people passing by to ask who they were, all to which I replied, yelling, “KEROSENE HEIGHTS FROM ASHEVILLE.” It was just so fun. It’s kind of what this is all about, you know?

Kerosene Heights - Photo by Alec Pugliese

My final thoughts? I think there’s a temptation to get into an us (very cool music listeners) vs them (nostalgia-obsessed poser) mentality. Because yes, the whole Elder Emo thing is grating, but this was also the first music thing I’ve been to where someone was wearing a Pg. 99 shirt — which is objectively some of the most authentically Elder Emo you can get. My point is that on the ground, it didn’t matter; we were all already there, so there was nothing left to do but have fun. I’m immensely proud of all the new bands that got spots to play the festival and I would be lying if I said I didn’t love seeing the old shit too. I literally almost waited in line to meet Levi Benton from Miss May I.
– Caro Alt


Taylor’s Portraits

Grabbing portraits of bands was something I wanted to do at Liberation Weekend, but I never quite worked up the courage to commit to fully. Because I knew the bands and the space better at Faux, I was much less shy about asking band members for a quick picture whenever the opportunity presented itself. Most of the time, I was operating on a simple “one and done” philosophy, snapping one pic and saying “cute” or “sick” and thanking the band. I’m incredibly proud of how some of these came out, and I hope I can continue to take many more pictures of band members in this capacity.

If you haven’t seen it, we've just launched a Photography wing of this website, featuring photo recaps of concerts. I plan on doing a Faux 8 photo recap at a later date, so more of these to come.


Faux 8: Honorary Day 3

While Faux 8 was only a two-day fest, a daytime Sunday show at The Swarmyard, a local BG DIY institution, acted as an unofficial continuation of the festivities. The lineup consisted of Decatur, Illinois folk rocker Marble Teeth (who we profiled earlier this year) and Equipment. When I showed up at The Swarmyard a little before doors, a group was forming across the street already a few dozen strong. By the time they started letting people in, it was clear the basement would not fit everyone comfortably or safely. Instead, everyone poured back out into the street and assembled at the front of the house for two front porch acoustic sets. 

Marble Teeth beguiled with his talky acousti-folk setup, playing guitar, harmonica, and CRT TV. At the beginning of each track, Caleb Jefson would select a song off a custom-made DVD menu, which would provide the beat as he sang and played guitar. He wove through songs off his early LPs Cars and Park, 2023’s top 10 times i’ve cried, as well as some new material that Jefson teased as part of an EP coming out on July 4th. 

Marble Teeth

After Marble Teeth’s set, Nick Zander took the mantle of the front porch for an all-request Equipment set. Occasionally joined by Penny and Ellie, the group rocked through a one-of-a-kind three-hour set, playing everything from embarrassing cuts off their 2015 demo to the then-just-a-few-days-old “espresso lemonade.” It was a staggering thing to take in deep cuts from every era of this band as Zander shredded and sang with Springsteen-like endurance. The crowd sang along whenever words were forgotten, and Zander was more than happy to provide the crowd with fun backstory and lore about nearly every track. 

The afternoon set was a beautiful and unique experience that will sadly act as the last from the Swarmyard, as the venue was forced to shut down following this show. Much like the AEG C&D, this feels like an overreaction and overreach; the last drops of life being squeezed out of a passionate group of people putting on shows purely out of love. That said, if I know anything about Jacob and Beautiful Rat Records, it’s that this energy will not go away, merely be diverted to other projects. Plus, if there’s any way to close up your house venue, it’s hard to beat a massive, mega four-hour show headlined by hometown heroes like Equipment.
– Taylor Grimes

Equipment


Some Closing Thoughts

Six years ago, I attended my first Fauxchella because a few bands I liked were performing. I figured it was worth the 90-minute drive down from Detroit to see Origami Angel, Stars Hollow, and Charmer. It turns out that “worth it” doesn’t even begin to capture the experience. I came away from Fauxchella III more inspired and enthused about music than I’d ever been in my life. As I sat eating Rally’s on the hood of my car after the gig, I found myself in absolute awe at the type of communal experience that was possible outside the confines of a traditional music festival experience. To me, this realization goes part and parcel with my Pacific Northwestern ass experiencing authentic Midwest DIY culture for the first time, amazed that people could throw shows out of their living room or basement, not to mention the ability to support and interact with bands directly, as opposed to strictly over a merch table (if at all). 

After attending Fauxchella III, I came back to Bowling Green for DIY Prom, then (on two separate occasions) made a 12-hour drive up from North Carolina just for Fauxchella. It wasn’t lost on me how silly it was to travel so far and take time off work for a festival happening in a college town outside of Toledo, but the lineups were too specific and too tailored to my tastes. It was like someone took my last.fm charts and turned them into a festival lineup. How could I miss that?

This year at Faux 8, I spoke with a couple who had traveled up from Mexico specifically for this festival. I was pretty amazed and said, “You guys probably traveled further than anyone here.” These were words I wound up eating mere hours later when I was talking to another group who had traveled from Alaska for Faux 8. 

On the second day of the festival, I found myself out back chatting with members of Keep For Cheap and Fend when Autumn Vagle said, “Minnesota needs something like this,” referring to Fauxchella’s tight-knit sense of community and impressive artistic draw. Similarly, at one point in the night, I was catching up with Jael Holzman, frontwoman of Ekko Astral and one of the people who spearheaded Liberation Weekend. She cited Fauxchella directly as an inspiration for how a festival like this can and should run, saying that watching Faux over the years was proof of concept that they could do something similar in DC. The result of that inspiration was an incredible festival that raised nearly $40k for the trans rights advocacy collective Gender Liberation Movement. That’s inspiration in action.

With next year’s venue still an unknown, any future Faux will look undeniably different. There will be no more Fauxchella as we’ve known it, but hopefully, there will be Fauxchellas sprouting up everywhere as people take this energy and inspiration back to their home scenes. Fauxchella itself isn’t special. It’s not the venue, the lineup, or even the people running it; what makes Fauxchella special is the community. It’s all these people coming together for two days of music and friendship and $3 beers. What makes Fauxchella special is you.

It feels poetic that Conor Alan, the person organizing most everything related to Fauxchella and the Summit Shack, had a baby on the literal day before Faux 8. As Conor steps into the role of father, it feels as if his other baby is now finally old enough to go off and live on its own. The format of this festival is something that can (and should) be replicated in every music scene across the country. And hey, maybe the first version is just a bunch of local bands and comedians performing in a garage, but keep at it, and who knows how big it could become? Who knows how many people will travel from other states and countries to be a part of your scene? What I do know is that you won’t find out until you start.

Fauxchella, as it has existed for the last near-decade, is gone, but in its place will come another Fauxchella in a different place run by the same people. Then another Faux-like festival with a different name, run by a completely different group of people. Then maybe even one in your hometown. Faux is more than just a music festival; it’s an idea, and ideas can be replicated, shared, and built upon. This is yours now. 

Fauxchella Forever ∞

The Best of Q2 2025

We’re halfway through 2025, and it feels like my brain is contorting into shapes it was never meant to hold. Unlike my intro for our favorites of Q1, I’m going to try my best not to go on a screed, but it’s hard not to treat these roundups as little check-ins. It’s also hard not to be upset at the countless acts of violence, injustice, and just plain stupidity being carried out in our name and on our dollar. It’s hard to conceive of because sometimes our day-to-day feels so completely unchanged or mind-numbingly banal. Hell, some days are even great. Then that feels weird because you’re allowing yourself one ounce of joy in the company of friends and loved ones, and suddenly you snap back to the reality of the world we’re living in. You remember the machine you’re a part of, and you try your best to operate outside of it, but sometimes that machine feels absolute and inescapable. 

I think what I’m trying to say is that this is a uniquely treacherous time to be alive, but there’s still beauty to be had. There’s salvation to be found in community, and there is support to be lent to those who need it. There’s art to share with each other, and that’s why we’re here. 

This past month, a couple of our friends had a beautiful, healthy baby. Another couple got a brand new puppy who’s barely big enough to make it up a single stair. I went to a baseball game primarily to down a beer, a hot dog, and fistfuls of popcorn. I had my 32nd birthday and was surrounded by all my beloved friends as we shot each other with squirt guns and shook our booties to Rihanna. I went to a music festival and hugged someone I loved. I took pictures outside of a tobacco shop in Ohio called “Butt Hut.” I shared some delicious meals with my beautiful girlfriend and watched Shakespeare in the park with friends. These are all varying levels of significance, and some of them might seem more frivolous or trivial than others, but they’re all part of the same thing. Finding the time to experience joy and wonder and happiness, acknowledging those feelings, and sharing them with as many people as possible is what it’s all about. 

With that in mind, please enjoy The Swim Team’s favorite albums from the last three months. Fifteen releases from fifteen artists, championed by fifteen different people. I hope you find something here to love.


First Day Back – Forward

Self-released

I’ve been an active participant in the emo scene for well over half my life at this point. I have seen its ebbs and flows, I’ve survived its famine years, and been relishing our current era of bounty. When one spends a long enough time being fully engrossed in the tides of genre, you begin to build a sense of which way the wind may start to blow. When I first heard The Arrival Note’s Vol. 2, I felt the tingle of an air pressure change, a movement in the sky that I surmised to be a harkening back to 90s emo that would find its way into our now burgeoning scene. Well, here we are, the first big gust to usher us towards our next few years of emo revival goodness. Actually, ‘revival’ doesn’t feel quite right. First Day Back’s debut effort is not them attempting to breathe life back into anything; it's all living, breathing experience, days and months and years and scattershot measurements of time clasped between moving string sections, moments pinched between their fret strings, memories weighing heavy on serenades and shouts.

Forward’s modus operandi, it seems, is to just be honest. Honest in feeling, honest in thought, honest in execution, and when all of that honesty starts condensing and collecting across the breadth of the album's thirty-four-minute runtime, the rain cloud accumulating over your spirit gets a spring-kissed summer shower. This album feels like a natural phenomenon in that way, and I think that with time and its tides, some kids in twenty years will point at this band and, through wide-eyed listening sessions of this album, want to find their own way through that same honesty. I'll be happy to press play on that one, too.
– Elias Amini


Turnstile – NEVER ENOUGH

Roadrunner Records

Turnstile’s summer blockbuster record, NEVER ENOUGH, has replenished for me the gigantic stadium rock feel from a band in their prime that I haven’t felt since the mid-2000s. It’s 45 minutes of crowd-pleasing summer rock action that scratches the itch of prime Red Hot Chili Peppers and Foo Fighters. NEVER ENOUGH is fully loaded with explosive melodic riffs and an ample number of sonic twists and turns.

BIRDS” is an adrenaline-pumping jam if I ever heard one. The song moves faster than a muscle car driven by Dom Toretto; it’s Turnstile at their mosh-pitting best. I just want to break something or at least knock over a traffic cone at full force whenever this song comes on. The transitions are as smooth and seamless – being able to move from chunky guitar riffs to break beats at the drop of a hat makes for a thrilling listening experience. The best example I can give is “LOOK OUT FOR ME,” which flies by at 100 mph with Q101 rock radio riffs, then morphs into a minimalist synth club hit that is full-on transcendent.

This record can be listened to nonstop on runs through the park, while manning the grill, or even while meditating by the pool. NEVER ENOUGH’s sonic versatility is the Swiss-Army knife for rock music.
– David Williams


Careful Gaze – one day this will let you go

Self-released

Minneapolis rockers Careful Gaze have always been a little messy to categorize as far as genre is concerned. Generally, it’s fair to call them a mix of post-hardcore, metalcore, and heavy indie music. one day this will let you go feels special, shedding all of those labels to do something completely unique within their catalog. What we get is an ambient EP full of sound design, synths, and subdued vocals.

The first track, “you are the strongest that I know,” has a two-minute sound bath before vocalist Gabe Reasoner comes in to silently declare, “You should stay away from me.” They repeat the phrase until you realize that this is a break-up record borne out of the challenge of letting go of people you loved, or perhaps, still love. On the second track, Careful Gaze trades in the subdued energy of track one for trap hi-hats, a handclap snare, and swelling synths, creating a build that demands release in the form of the next song. 

It’s on the closing title track where the emotional design of the record really shines. It challenges the listener to break composure while Gabe’s vocal delivery screams out, raising in intensity until the last line, dropping back down to close the record by saying “it’s fucked no matter what,” an acknowledgement that sometimes brokenness is just brokenness. There isn’t much hope here. This is simply the work of a broken person writing about brokenness.

This EP begs a few questions about Careful Gaze’s next full-length record. Will we see more of this lush sound design that’s being spotlighted on this EP? Will we get a resolution for the heartbreak we see here? It’s impossible to know what’s next, but I’m waiting with bated breath to see where this band will be landing when they hit the ground again.
– Noëlle Midnight


Panel – A Great Time to Be an Empath

Don’t Sing 

With each spin of Panel’s debut album, A Great Time to Be an Empath, the more I feel the need to grab someone, shake them, and scream at them about the things Annie Sparrows’ songwriting makes me feel. Throughout this record, Sparrows aches for some sort of relief from the horrors of trying to exist sanely under conditions of absolute reality. The moment that hits the hardest for me is after the second verse of “Victoria” when she gently croons that titular name, and her voice is so full of desperate hope that someday she’ll be able to sit comfortably in her skin. “Victoria” does what I want every new song I hear to do, to leave me breathless and lost for words to describe what just happened and how the hell I could feel all of that in under two minutes. And it is not the only song on the record that makes me feel that way. It can’t be when the record opens the line “Everybody knows that the place to start / is before the end, before the part / where you began to go but you didn’t even know / it was the start of the lights out slip” spoken over a motorik rhythm that perfectly evokes the dissociative numbness that comes with living just to make it through the day and has a piano ballad as its centerpiece about a pets love performed like a lounge act. It’s a great time to listen to A Great Time to Be an Empath.
– Lillian Weber


Forest Spirit, Sun on Your Back – winnowing

Self-released

One way I try to remember each month is with a playlist of new-to-me music. In May, I heard “Out of Season” by Forest Spirit, Sun on Your Back. It’s from their 2023 debut album, and liberally abuses the stereo audio format to split each guitar beat, giving the song an interesting and intentionally disjointed character. This, among other bit-crushing, oversaturating, and noisy tricks, was intriguing enough for a whole album play. Luckily for me, that same month they released their sophomore LP, winnowing. This second effort explores the softer side of low-fidelity recording. There are still plenty of crunchy crescendos and haphazard buzzings throughout, but each song feels more considered. They back off the chaos of their first album to introduce a meticulous melange, which is acoustic-forward and ever so slightly polished. If you’re a fan of Wednesday, glass beach, or Hey, ILY, you’ll find something to love about Forest Spirit, Sun on Your Back.
– Braden Allmond


The Callous Daoboys – I Don’t Want To See You In Heaven

MNRK Records

I’ve had the pleasure of working at a lovely, albeit somewhat niche, museum since October, and I still find new little nooks, crannies, and didactics throughout the exhibits to keep me invested. Being a museum employee also grants complimentary access to other museums, such as The Brooklyn Museum, the Museum of Contemporary Art in Chicago, and the Seattle Art Museum, to name a few. However, one doesn’t need reciprocity to enter the Museum of Failure, an interactive auditory museum curated by the six-piece post-hardcore band The Callous Daoboys. 

This museum is sprawling with different exhibits, ranging from the downright ridiculously heavy (“Tears on Lambo Leather,” “Full Moon Guidance,” “The Demon Of Unreality Limping Like A Dog”) to catchy (“Two-Headed Trout,” “Lemon,” “Distracted By The Mona Lisa”) to spacy (“Body Horror For Birds”). Some artifacts scare viewers while others will bring them to tears of laughter like the downright ridiculous A GAGA BOO AAGAA BOO BOO AAGAA in “Idiot Temptation Force.”

The crown jewel of this museum belongs to “III. Country Song In Reverse,” an almost twelve-minute colossus of sounds ranging from a two-minute ambient southern soundscape to thunderous breakdowns to an auto tuned repetition of “I Love You” culminating in frontman Carson Pace screaming, “I am worthy of the ark and I hope to god you can’t swim.” 

There’s a lot of laughter, a lot of tears, and a lot of heavy shit in between. Is that not what life is? Beauty may be in the eye of the beholder, but what I marvel at in the Museum of Failure is a group of artists who play to all of their strengths without sacrificing their uniqueness. God bless The Callous Daoboys.
– Samuel Leon


MSPAINT – No Separation

Convulse Records

I used to work at a free museum that had a wax-coated sculpture in its sculpture garden. At 2 PM on the dot, every day, a mirrored skyscraper in a different neighborhood would aim a direct beam of light and heat onto this sculpture, melting it. But every day, the museum’s restoration team would fix it—kind of a standing battle with art and capital.

This is the stubborn determination that No Separation from Hattiesburg’s MSPAINT reminds me of. In their last release, 2023’s Post-American, MSPAINT dealt in potential energy, constantly building up momentum and threatening release. In No Separation, they release it, almost leering as they proclaim a positive future amongst the wasteland.

These past couple of months have been inundated with people talking about the boundaries of hardcore, and while all that’s been going on, MSPAINT has been digging under the genre and unearthing the unruly heartbeat that drives the sound. The result? No Separation. So what if it all melts? We’ll rebuild.
– Caro Alt


Pelican – Flickering Resonance

Run For Cover

If there’s one theme that echoes throughout Flickering Resonance, Pelican’s first new record in six years, it’s the beginning of a new era for the Chicago metal quartet. Many great artists work in trilogies, such as David Bowie’s series from Berlin in the 1970s, or U2’s collaborations with Brian Eno and Daniel Lanois in the 1980s. Flickering Resonance marks the seventh full-length album from Pelican, and the start of what could be a third album trilogy nearly twenty-five years into their career.

Their dynamic sound, established since 2003’s Australasia and perfected on 2009’s What We All Come To Need, continues through new catalog classics like “Gulch” and “Wandering Mind.” The explosive and theatrical passages on “Cascading Crescent” and “Pining For Ever” fill the room with whatever speakers they’re blasting on, helping paint a soaring, loud rock landscape with the rest of the LP. Pelican has been one of my home city’s most important bands to me, and their staying power has only strengthened with the release of Flickering Resonance, unleashed to a dark world now made much brighter.
– Logan Archer Mounts


Arm’s Length – There's A Whole World Out There

Pure Noise Records

At this point, there are few members left in the emo cognoscenti to sway regarding Arm’s Length’s mastery of the craft. Signing to genre-behemoth Pure Noise Records was merely a stepping stone before unleashing their sophomore LP, There’s A Whole World Out There, a record that features the group proving they’re anything but a one-album wonder. Admittedly, I was optimistically wary at first listen, because how does a group one-up a generational debut like Never Before Seen, Never Again Found? Thankfully, I was completely enamored by the rebuttal album on release day. What makes the Canada-based unit special is their knack for crafting something comprehensive and cohesive.

As is common in the emo genre, the band's initial full-length, NBSNAF, was lyrically condemned by its nostalgia-drunk tilt. The feeling is a drug – hard to quit and easy to get lost in. However, Arm’s Length find their way out on their newest LP, rooting themselves firmly in the present. Vocalist Allen Steinberg writes from hindsight's perspective this time around, and while this album is still very much sad, it takes a different outlook on it. Such is evident on heavy-hitting cuts like “The Wound,” where Steinberg pleads, “Time will heal me, will I stick around to see it?” 

If I had to whittle down this album to 300 words or less (which is what I’m attempting), I’d say it’s largely about being overtly self-aware and viewing past mistakes through a magnifying lens. Being aware enough to recognize and admit that, yeah, there is a whole world out there waiting for me, but right now, it appears too large for me to conquer. So, this album begs the question: if there is a whole world out there, where do we go from here?
– Brandon Cortez


honeybee – midtown girl

Good Luck

A dynamic, warm indie rock record that feels like locking eyes with a beloved friend across a crowded party, right when they walk in the door. Chock full of 90s influences, beautifully produced, and adorned with some of the most confusingly tight harmonies of the year, midtown girl is the sound of a band loosening up—and shifting into a new gear as a result. It’s fun, it’s efficient, it’s a lovely companion to 2024’s Saturn Return, and it sounds perfect in whichever Midtown you’re closest to.

Regarding the 90’s influences, honeybee lead singer/songwriter Makayla Scott said, “There are just these things that are ingrained in a lot of us because that's what we grew up on...it is an amalgamation of everything that I've ever known and loved, which is 90’s Country and also a lot of Y2K Pop music. Avril, Ashlee Simpson, and then some Alanis Morissette, some Liz Phair. I'm not making direct references, but the references are just there because that's what I grew up loving and learning from.”

honeybee aimed for authenticity with midtown girl. The heart and the feeling both come through, not only lyrically but with the passion and intentionality of the vocals and instrumentals. “With midtown girl, Ian Dobyns, who is the co-producer, engineer, mixer…was really coaching me this time to deliver feeling, and to not worry about precision. So now, when I listen back on these vocal takes, there are things that I would consider not technically perfect, but the whole vibe of the song and the record feel perfect.”
– Caleb Doyle


Hayden Pedigo – I’ll Be Waving As You Drive Away

Mexican Summer

In the Sacramento Valley, heat waves slither atop the molten asphalt, and mirages shimmer among the brittle grasses. The violently warm air chaps my lungs from the inside, but at least it’s a dry heat. (That’s what they say, anyway.) To cope with the arid western summer, I have found myself spinning the perfect album for such weather: I’ll Be Waving As You Drive Away by Hayden Pedigo. This instrumental folk record is a yellow-gold masterpiece, with guitar melodies that wrap you in a woolen embrace and bring grassy mirages to life. From nostalgic pieces like “Houndstooth” to the atmospheric title track, Hayden’s skillful playing will pull at your heart and tighten your chest. You’re not even sure what you’re sad about, but you feel a great and cosmic grief weighing on your shoulders. His writing is dotted with delicate phrasing and sparingly placed harmonics that feel just right, demonstrating masterful restraint. “Smoked” is the stand-out track: melancholy wanderings and improvisation, divided by pauses that feel like a sigh, prove Hayden’s exemplary storytelling. I take a deep breath. My lungs hurt, and it smells like scorched dust. But at least it’s a dry heat.
– Britta Joseph


Ribbon Skirt – Bite Down

Mint Records

The first time I heard Bite Down, I found myself helplessly mesmerized. I had few things to compare it to, but midway through “Dead Horse,” I realized the closest reference point I could pull was Japanese Breakfast’s “Diving Woman.” Both songs serve similar purposes as their respective albums’ transportive opening tracks, slowly unfurling and welcoming the listener into the world that the band inhabits. The thing with Bite Down is that feeling didn’t let up. As the Anishinaabe group phases from the spooky hyperventilated breathing of “Cellophane” to the groovy wink of “Off Rez,” I remained spellbound. There’s the piercing scream near the end of “Wrong Planet,” the carefree post-punk bop of “Look What You Did,” and then the apocalyptic world-ending reset of “Earth Eater.” Throughout it all, the band captures a unique sense of displacement, betrayal, and perseverance that feels authentic to who this group of musicians are culturally and creatively. A rock record unlike any others this year or ever before.
– Taylor Grimes


Hemmingway Lane – “Shattered Glass”

Klepto Phase

I am from just south of Michigan, about 15 minutes from the border, and something about the state always seemed magical to me. It was this place just out of reach and out of time, and I have been chasing that nostalgic high ever since. I was able to find it again last year when Hemmingway Lane reached out to me and asked me to cover their EP Let The Flowers Die. They liked the review so much that I was able to hear “Shattered Glass” as an unmixed phone demo many months ago, and I have been eagerly awaiting its release ever since. I am pleased to report that the full song exceeds expectations in every way. In the past, Hemmingway Lane has focused on a slower indie rock sound that is reminiscent of The Backseat Lovers; however, on this track, they unlock something new in their sound. 

“Shattered Glass” is a song about the time someone threw a rock through lead singer Elijah Flood’s back windshield. However, like all art, it takes on a deeper meaning, one of truly accepting the place you are in life. It is the kind of concept that really sticks with me as I enter the period of my life where I am realizing that I am no longer who I once was, and I never will be again. It will just take some time, but eventually I'll take the shards of my splintered existence and put them into something new and beautiful.
– Ben Parker


Momma – Welcome to My Blue Sky

Polyvinyl Record Co.

The fourth studio album by Los Angeles-based Indie rock band Momma is one of those records that hit me pretty casually upon first listen, but am now regularly throwing on at work when I gain control of the aux both as a small comfort to myself and also like I’m teaching the patrons of the bustling cafe what Indie rock music is truly capable of being. Moody lyrics about love and longing delicately accompany some of the surprisingly punchiest riffs I’ve heard in a while. Heavy hitters like “Rodeo” steadily planted themselves in my brain until I realized this is one of the best albums I’ve heard all year in some unexpected, beautiful Stockholm syndrome effect. So much of this album’s power lies in the atmosphere created by tracks like “Stay All Summer,” which constantly oscillates between subtle strums and shrieking guitar tones, along with the eerie electronic effects of sleepy comforts like “New Friend.” One of the singles from the album, “Bottle Blonde,” specifically commands the utmost attention and places Welcome to My Blue Sky in the upper echelon of 2025’s offerings. The nostalgic melodies, instrumentation, and composition of this powerhouse remind me of my favorite “girl rock” bands of the late 90s and early 00s and could not be more at home in a well-patronized coffee shop or blaring from your bedroom speakers while you paint your nails and try to expunge your ex from your thoughts. As we launch headlong into the summer, there is no better time to spin this emotive collection of fair-weather hits.
– Ciara Rhiannon


PinkPantheress – Fancy That

Warner Records

Resident pop Swimmer reporting for duty. I was less than impressed with PinkPantheress’s sophomore LP, 2023’s heaven knows. Too minimal for my liking; I needed an oversaturation of elements to have even the slightest chance of stopping The Thoughts. “Tonight,” Pink’s first single of the year, was everything I thought heaven knows wasn’t—thumping, bubbly, clubby, relentless, addictive. The kind of song you hear playing in your head as you stick your head out the window of the Uber home. The rest of Fancy That matches that energy, stacking sample upon sample as Pink skates across house-adjacent trip-pop backbeats with her signature veil of indifference. “Illegal” is already going down as my song of the year—I’m convinced the opening synths could bring me back from the dead. I love this mixtape so much that I waited 35 minutes in a queue to secure tickets for her tour. She’s just doing it for me right now. See you in October, queen!
– Cassidy Sollazzo

Smut – Tomorrow Comes Crashing | Album Review

Bayonet Records

Look, Smut kick ass, plain and simple. Tomorrow Comes Crashing is the band’s third studio album, which puts the Chicago-based quintet back into the muck, returning to the sludgy sound of their debut. It’s a type of album where, when I hear the songs, I get a feeling that the band knows exactly who they are at this point and are firing on all cylinders toward that actualization. The group recaptures some of their original DIY aesthetics while also incorporating new tricks they’ve learned along the way.

Smut’s previous record, How the Light Felt, sifted through the intricacies of 1990s dream pop and alt-rock, with more of the songs erring on the dreamy side of things. They smoothed out the rough edges found on their debut for an enjoyable second entry in their catalog–it was as if The Sundays had a lost album that was discovered in an abandoned storage unit and finally made its way onto streaming services.

Tomorrow Comes Crashing has similar elements to their previous records but now includes monstrous eruptions of distorted rock that bring the band to an apex of their sound. Vocalist Tay Roebuck, guitarists Andie Min and Sam Ruschman, bassist John Steiner, and drummer Aidan O’Connor tap into the sonic influences of their predecessors to create 34 minutes of pure rock ecstasy. The first step to achieving this sound was to enlist Aron Kobayashi Ritch as the production assistant, who turned the volume up to max power, giving the songs enough electricity to make Ben Franklin blush. Ritch has been on a hot streak of his own this year, with credits on the recent albums from Momma, Bedridden, and Been Stellar.

The single, “Syd Sweeney,” is something I could easily imagine on a 90s episode of Beavis and Butthead with them shaking and gyrating on their couch while watching the music video in between calling each other “fart knockers.” The song has all the ingredients of a certified banger, from the fuzzed-out 90s guitar riffs to the sludgy thrash metal outro, accompanied by some expert wailing from Roebuck. Not only can you throw your neck out headbanging to the track, but dig into the lyrics, and you’ll find a message about the objectification and stereotypes of women in art. A-list actress Sydney Sweeney is the namesake evoked as the shining example of being uber-talented in her own right yet still viewed solely as a sex object by some. For me, the sign of a talented band is when you can combine engaging music with lyrics that convey a distinct message that holds meaning for the artists.

What stands out to me throughout Tomorrow Comes Crashing is the voice of Tay Roebuck, who has an incredible range, accompanied by an unpredictable Tasmanian Devil-like energy. Her versatility is evident across the album; you can hear someone go through all the emotions, from a yell to a cry to a plethora of blood-curdling screams. On the 90s-inspired ballad with an edge, “Dead Air,” Roebuck’s voice rides the wave of crisp basslines with such effortless ease. A few tracks earlier, on the explosive, twisting metal riff opener “Godhead,” she belts a horror movie-like yowl that offers a thrilling, speaker-rattling moment. 

There’s a lot of fun to be had on the in-between songs, “Burn Like Violet” has guitar riffs you would hear in an 80s action movie scene. When I hit play on that song, I can just imagine a shredded Patrick Swayze in a bar fight throwing a jabroni onto a table, sending them through a bevy of glass mugs. “Spit” is a rough and rowdy song laced with chunky metal riffs and the perfect amount of fuzz. Each track also hosts an intoxicatingly catchy chorus that makes me just want to keep hitting repeat nonstop.

Ghosts (Cataclysm, Cover Me)” is the band tapping back into their dream pop sound, which, by the evidence of their second record, they are entirely at ease revisiting that brimming well of inspiration. The song has a moody, Gothic feel, accompanied by hauntingly executed echoes of Roebuck, making this a staple track that should be on everyone’s Halloween playlist this fall.

The realization of the trials and tribulations a band encounters while trying to live out their dreams is the focus of “Touch & Go.” The mid-album cut shows the things people don’t see beyond the shows, like flooded basements ruining your gear or inhaling burnt coffee in Anytown, USA, and having to manage your van breaking down while trying to make it to the next gig. The will it takes to persevere in your aspirations of becoming a full-time musician is harder than ever these days. Smut are well on the way to achieving their dreams by relentlessly evolving their sound to newer heights with each album cycle. The record itself is pure, unadulterated fun, but what separates this group from the pack are the detailed lyrical messages behind the kick-assery. While Tomorrow Comes Crashing feels expertly timed as a summer release with red-hot, sizzling guitar riffs and thunderous choruses, that depth beneath the surface is liable to keep drawing listeners back, rewarding them for many seasons to come.


David is a content mercenary based in Chicago. He's also a freelance writer specializing in music, movies, and culture. His hidden talents are his mid-range jump shot and the ability to always be able to tell when someone is uncomfortable at a party. You can find him scrolling away on Instagram@davidmwill89, Twitter@Cobretti24, or Medium@davidmwms.

Dance Myth – The Shapes We Make | Album Review

Say-10 Records

When I was 19 years old, I first heard Listener’s album Wooden Heart Poems, and it made me realize that listening to music wasn’t good enough. Wooden Heart Poems was an invitation to write, and I needed to accept that invitation. I started writing my own songs and poems, often putting on Wooden Heart Poems as inspiration when I couldn’t find words on my own, borrowing lyrical motifs and stretching them until they resembled the shape of my own heart. Fifteen years later, I’m listening to Listener’s songwriter, Dan Smith, as he presents his new project, Dance Myth, and I’m struck once again as though I were still the 19-year-old finding er voice for the first time.

In many ways, The Shapes We Make feels like coming home, which is appropriate for a record that deals so much with death. Dan’s voice has hardly changed in the 15 years between my introduction and this new record, which makes this album feel deeply familiar from the first word said in the passionate spoken-word style that he’s built a career around. There’s a cadence to his vocal delivery that feels like a wave, scored by guitars, trumpets, synths, keyboards, and a multitude of other supporting instrumentation ebbing and flowing to create vast dynamic shapes that draw your attention towards the emotional urgency of his words.

If you miss some of the lyrics, as I’m sure many of us frequently do on initial listens of a record, you'll still catch that wave, but the true richness comes from diving in. Most of the record’s lyrics read like letters, diary entries, and memories. They’re correspondence between the writer, the listener, and unnamed third parties. The record reads as an invitation to converse with the music as it pleads, reassures, convicts, and comforts. In many ways, it echoes Levi The Poet’s 2014 release Correspondence: A Fiction, which similarly used dramatic scoring to support poetry about love and loss in the form of letters.

On The Shapes We Make, Dance Myth seems to speak directly to us, the listeners, imploring us to join in the shared humanity that makes us complete as people, flaws and all. In the album opener, “Gentle, Gentle,” you hear Smith plead, “Forgive yourself. If you can. For who you’ve been. You didn’t know then.” It’s an invitation to actively participate in the divine practice of grace rather than standing still in our regrets, our pasts, and our mistakes. This song offers a lesson I’ve had to learn time and again in therapy: to forgive oneself—a lesson that bears repeating, as it simply cannot be internalized the first time you hear it.

It’s often unclear whether Smith intends the songs and poems to be pointed at “you,” a specific individual, or “you,” the listener, but to my ears, it feels as though he’s speaking directly to my soul. It often feels as though Smith has chosen to sit down with each listener, allowing us to listen and meditate on the words he has carefully laid out. Even when the lyrics clearly show that a letter is for a specific individual whom the listener can never know, Smith still finds a way to make it feel universal in its specificity.

Lead single “Little Bird” reads like a eulogy, with Smith taking time to share about the pain of seeing a loved one leave this life. It serves as an apology to the subject of the song as he exclaims, “Sorry you couldn’t make it to where we were.” It isn’t all bleak, though. He celebrates the evaporation of life in death, referring to the dead as going “back into everyone I meet.” There’s a universality in the specificity of this piece, as we see a particular person cemented in the lyric. It begs us to share in the specificity that engulfs our lives, Smith confidently trusting that the listener can swap out the details to match their own loss, grief, and desire for peace.

We shift from grief to fear by track six, “This Accordion Life,” as there’s a palpable sense that something is wrong; Smith describes the way he’s seen by others as “just the shape of smoke from setting myself on fire” followed closely by exclaiming that tomorrow and the past are both terrifying. He leans on the hope of getting better, knowing that the only path forward is simply to keep going, a lesson that many minority groups have heard over and over in times of tribulation.

To speak personally for a moment, I want to mention that I’m a transgender woman, which has deeply shaped the way I view this record. In my experience, being trans is largely about self-identification. It’s about looking in the mirror and deciding who you want to be– no, rather, it’s about realizing who you are. Near the end of “This Accordion Life,” we hear Smith exclaim, “It’s embarrassing. All the times I’ve hidden or was made to feel I should hide any of the ways I shine. Told everyone I’m fine, and believed that lie myself.” It feels like a dagger in my heart as I sit in wonder and regret, asking myself why I took so long to find the ways that I should have been shining my entire life.

We return to death on “Dry County” as the pronoun shifts from “I” to “she” to “we” to “you.” The “I” represents the personal response to grief. “She” represents the person who was “waving like she had to go, and so she left.” “We” shows the intimacy of memory as Smith reflects on the past that was shared. Finally, “you” represents him speaking to a mystery audience who appears to be nearing death themselves. There’s a peace to the way that he speaks of death, as though he knows the comfort and fear that comes with that extraordinary adventure, choosing to optimistically opt into comfort in the great disappearing.

Finally, on the closing track of the album, we hear him end the record by singing “Tie me up, untie me,” appearing to reference mewithoutYou’s track of the same name, where lyricist Aaron Weiss sings that exact phrase, followed by “all this wishing I was dead is getting old.” Smith follows his phrase differently, however, finishing with “tie me up again.” I can’t begin to interpret what he means in that final moment of the record, but to me, it feels like a refutation of “all this wishing I was dead” that Weiss presented, choosing to emphasize the hope and joy of living a life that’s wild, urgent, and desperate for individual expressions of love.

The Shapes We Make is the record I want to hear while driving home from the gig or sitting in the line of cars as they leave the festival I’ve been at all weekend. Importantly, for me, it’s a balm that delivers contemplation through the noise, reassurance in times of hardship and grief, and peace in a time of wars: old and new, literal and figurative. 

It feels like an exhale. A restoration. An invitation.

“So, if you are alive, raise your hands. Keep them open. Reach out for anyone.”


Noëlle Midnight (e/er) is a transgender podcaster, poet, musician, and photographer in Seattle, WA. E can be found online with er podcast Idle Curiosities, tweets on Bluesky at @noellemidnight.com, photos on the Instagram alternative Glass at @noellemidnight, and movie reviews of varying quality on Letterboxd at @noellemidnight.