The Best of October 2021: Part 2

October brought us so much great music that I had to split our usual monthly roundup into two parts. Read on for paternal pop-punk, soul-rending black metal, and a worthy successor to My Chemical Romance. Click here to read The Best of October 2021: Part 1.

Trace Mountains - House of Confusion

Lame-O Records

I’ve been riding the Trace Mountains Train ever since Spotify served up a single off A Partner to Lean On back in early 2018. In the time since then, “Thunder Trails” has gone on to become one of my favorite songs of all time, and the project has been a consistent source of pleasant country expeditions and killer closing tracks alike. While 2020’s Lost in the Country was curbed by releasing a month into lockdown, that turned out to be a blessing in disguise because it gave Dave Benton enough time to regroup and create House of Confusion. Pitched as a darker, earthier counterpart to last year’s album, Confusion is a lush and inward record packed with slide guitar and slightly more pensive sentiments than its predecessor. Despite its more inward nature, the third proper Trace Mountains album is just as authentic as everything that came before–a perfect collection of songs to watch the leaves change to.

Virginity - POPMORTEM

Smartpunk Records

Here’s a fun little choose your own adventure: Are you emo? Of course you are. Do you want to make music? Excellent. Are you a dad? Perfect. If you meet all of these criteria, you actually have two options based on your location. If you live in the Midwest, you can take the Mike Kinsella route and make sad, slow albums about parenthood. If you’re from the southeast, then crank your amp as far as it’ll go and get to riffing like Virginity. 

This is a total false equivalency, but I really do see these bands as two sides of the same coin. Both acts lean into the age of their members, taking a more mature approach on all-too-familiar topics like sadness, nostalgia, and aging. That perspective is a proper distinction in a scene where most people creating emo music are in their twenties talking about high school heartbreak and getting stoned. In fact, Virginity addresses this on album opener “We Get It,” speaking both musical contemporaries and fellow members of the DIY scene alike in a blistering 2.5-minute takedown. Throughout the album, Virginity jumps from catchy choruses, breakneck PUP passages, and hardcore screams. Lyrically, the band discusses everything from selfishness, privilege, family dynamics, shifting friendships, and the indifferent impermanence of our world. Together, these songs assemble into an energetic 30-minute excursion that gives the listener punky emo music with a unique perspective–a precious resource within the scene.

Angel Du$t - YAK: A Collection of Truck Songs

Roadrunner Records

It’s kinda hilarious to go back to the first Angel Du$t album and compare that sound from five years ago with what’s found throughout Yak. As a supergroup with members from hardcore bands like Turnstile and Trapped Under Ice, it only made sense for them to start with thrashy songs that felt like familiar territory. At the same time, it’s no wonder why the band so quickly shifted into something so sonically dissimilar; after all, you’d want your side gig to be different from your day job too, right? If I were to describe Yak with one word, it would be emphatic. This album feels like a collection of tracks primarily concerned with being groovy, joyful, and fun to listen to. Some songs sound like Scooby-Doo chase music while others are straight-up Rancid worship, this is all alongside some hardcore-lite sprinkled in for the oldheads. No two tracks sound alike but bear similar levels of effortlessly cool vocal deliveries, sticky choruses, and bouncy acoustic guitar. Yak is a far cry from the band’s hardcore origins but still an engaging and catchy comedown from the fist-balling rage of their earlier work.

Spirit Was - Heaven’s Just a Cloud

Danger Collective Records

Spirit Was is the solo project of Nick Corbo, formerly of the lo-fi pop-punk band LVL UP… However, if you go into this project with that framework, you’re likely to be shocked. If you want a proper introduction to Spirit Was, just start Heaven’s Just A Cloud from the top. That probably sounds like ‘no duh’ advice, but the album’s opening track “I Saw The Wheel” not only doubled as the first single but also single-handedly sold me on the entire project. That song begins with a slow-moving folk music whisper but halfway through vaults up into a Sunbather-style of blackened metal. It’s jarring but still somehow manages to work beautifully, resulting in a combination of sounds I would never have thought to put together. After this cataclysmic outpouring, the band walks the listener deeper and deeper into their rustic world, combining folksy drawls with the occasional crushing shoegaze riff much like Twin Plagues or Dixieland. Heaven’s Just a Cloud is a mystical and awe-inspiring journey that rumbles with a sort of naturalistic holy power. 

Boyfrienders - Midwest Alive in Nightmares

Good Luck Charm Records

I’d say a few times a week I fantasize about moving back to Detroit. Sure the winters are cold, the drivers are crazy, and you’re forced to hear natives refer to soda as “pop,” but you know what makes up for all of that? The music. Seriously, Michigan has, pound for pound, the most creative and inspiring crop of bands out of anywhere that I’ve ever lived, and nobody exemplifies that quite like Boyfrienders. After detailing New York as seen through a series of different J-line stops in 2020’s Scenes of Brooklyn, lead singer Poppy Morawa and co. return back to the frigid landscape of the Midwest for a stunning collection of 11 power-pop bangers. Songs range from boppy Cure-instrumentals on “Johnny Drama” to hard-charging punk on “The Moment.”

Aside from having some of the most fun song titles of the year (“Dudes Rock Twenty Twenty One” and “Post-Commune Glitch Pop” are simply all-timers), the sheer scope of musicality on display throughout this album is impressive. From a vibey build on “Live Like You Exist” to a celebratory send-off on “Permanent Prom Night,” there’s never time for the listener to predict what’s coming next. While Morawa’s distinct croon leads most songs, “Fushigi 45,” “Halcyon,” as well as the aforementioned “The Moment,” cede the spotlight to other band members and voices from the Michigan scene, leading to a beautifully-collaborative sense of ever-shifting musical wonder. Additional collaborations come in the form of Bryan Porter (In A Daydream), Tyler Floyd (Parkway & Columbia), Austin Stawowczyk and Kris Herrmann (both of Shortly and Seaholm), Alex Stoitsiadis (Dogleg), and more. It’s a who’s who of Michigan musicians packed into one LP that makes me miss the collaborative spirit which permeated every corner of that scene. Until I can get back to Detroit, at least I have Midwest Alive in Nightmares.

The War on Drugs - I Don’t Live Here Anymore

Atlantic

Nobody should be surprised by a War on Drugs album in 2021. Since 2008 the group has been cranking out near-flawless heartland rock, and I Don’t Live Here Anymore is no different. While not quite as wondrous as Lost In The Dream and not as breathtaking as A Deeper Understanding, the band’s newest album trades the thoughtful 11-minute-long journeys for more bite-sized songs with killer synthesizers, soulful guitar solos, and compelling narrative flashes. There’s some pitch-perfect Petty-indebted instrumentals, blatant Springsteen worship, and even a few moments of morbid reflection. Everything resolves satisfyingly on “Occasional Rain” for a clean break at the end of 50-some-odd minutes of classic rock. 

Swim Camp - Fishing in a Small Boat

Know Hope Records

Here’s the recipe: take a dash of Alex G, a pinch of Trace Mountains, a smidge of slowcore, and just a hint of shoegaze. Whisk together vigorously and let sit for two years. The result will be a creation as rustic and gorgeous as Fishing in a Small Boat. Whether through staggering builds, backcountry jaunts, or long rolling instrumentals, Swim Camp never falters in their mission to depict a laid-back lo-fi world in which every man deserves a porch on which to enjoy his beer. 

Every Time I Die - Radical

Epitaph Records

When I listen to hardcore music, I come in search of a few things: heavy riffs, killer screams, and breakdowns that make me want to fight God. For over two decades, Every Time I Die has brought those qualities to their music and then some. It’s rare that a band I listened to in high school ages this gracefully or this cringe-free, but much like a fine wine, Every Time I Die somehow manages to just keep getting better with time. Vocalist Keith Buckley has a scream that could obliterate your chest like a point-blank shotgun blast. Combine that with chuggy drop-D riffs, molar-shattering basslines, and unrelenting drums, and you have a radical grouping of 16 songs that hit like a brick to the face. 

Super American - SUP

Wax Bodega

One of the first CDs I ever purchased of my own volition was Two Lefts Don’t Make A Right…but Three Do by Reliant K. The songs were clean, catchy, and beautifully pop-punk. The tracks got lodged in my head for days on end, using everyday objects like chapstick and mood rings to springboard into observations about girls, maturity, and (of course) God. When I listen to SUP by Super American, I’m struck with many of the same things I felt when I first heard Reliant K. Sure, their songs aren’t as kid-friendly and don’t ladder up to selling the listener into their religion, but the rest of it is all there; snotty pop-punk deliveries, highly-potent power chords, and an exuberant youthful bounciness. Plus, with just ten songs clocking in at a blistering 25 minutes, there’s hardly any time to get restless; all you have to do is chug an energy drink, sing along, and commiserate. 

Save Face - Another Kill For the Highlight Reel

Epitaph Records

The pitch for the newest Save Face album is a slam dunk: this is the closest thing you’re going to get to a new My Chemical Romance record in 2021. On some level, I think that does the music itself a disservice, but it’s easy to see the appeal of this elevator pitch for a certain sect of music fan. While the debut album from Save Face relied on polished shout-along pop-punk hooks, Another Kill For the Highlight Reel dials up the goth meter until it reaches the skeleton-clad upper echelon. The group’s sophomore album leans into the heavier side of their sound, offering up a shreddy bunch of emo bangers that all but revive the long-lost sound of their fellow New Jersey hard rockers in MCR. Don your finest all-black ensemble and journey into Save Face’s world. 

Minus the Bear - Farewell

Suicide Squeeze

I’ve talked before about how important Minus the Bear is to me. I’ve waxed and waned about their discography and delved into why “This Ain’t A Surfin’ Movie” is my favorite song of all time. When the band decided to call it quits back in 2018, I was crushed, but I understood why it had to happen. The members had been at it for over fifteen years at that point, even longer if you count predecessors like State Route 522 and Sharks Keep Moving. Farewell is a career-spanning live album that sees the band breaking out the hits and deep cuts alike over the course of a nearly two-hour runtime. Pulling tracks from their most recent album to their most obscure early EPs, Farewell truly is a celebration; it’s a victory lap for Minus the Bear and a thank you to the fans who have stuck around. The album is also a technical showcase as the band taps their way through a wide range of mathy indie rock hits with as much precision as they do on the studio versions. Perhaps most importantly, Farewell is a testament to a beautiful group that has been making formative music for millions of fans for nigh on two decades. Thank you for everything, Minus The Bear. Farewell. 

Quick Hits

If you’re looking for even more tunes from the past month or so, we’ve published reviews of the new releases from Couplet, Church Girls, Sufjan Stevens, and Pictoria Vark. Alternatively, you can see my favorite songs from every album I listened to in October month through this playlist. 

Welcome To The Final Year of A Very Sufjan Christmas

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

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As I write this, we stand on the precipice of what could very well be our final year of A Very Sufjan Christmas. 

When my friend Kyle Meyers and I first came up with the idea for this site back in 2018, it all started as a joke. A Sufjan Stevens Advent calendar, how novel! It was such a goofy idea, and so Sufjan. While my initial reaction was nothing more than a mere laugh, it quickly dawned on me that with 100 total songs at our disposal and 25 days on an advent calendar, we could conceivably write about every single Sufjan Christmas song over the course of four years. At that point, my reaction suddenly shifted from “that’s funny” to “we must do this.” I sprinted off to lock down usernames and a domain in our name, and the rest is history. 

That first year of the website almost felt like an exercise in finding out how Sufjan Stevens fans we knew. Over the years, we’ve sourced writers from places like /r/indieheads and /r/sufjan, as well as our personal Rolodexes of music nerd friends and random Twitter mutuals alike. In the second and third years, I ran this site by myself, sourcing 25 writers each year, editing every article, running all the social media, and keeping the Christmas spirit alive thanks to a constantly rotating crew of talented writers. 

As you would expect, many of the biggest songs within Sufjan’s Christmas oeuvre were covered in our first year. Then the remaining “most popular” songs were the next to go within the second year, and so on. We now find ourselves at the onset of the fourth year of this site, which means we are down to our final 25 songs. 

Over a four-year-long process of elimination, we now find ourselves whittled down to 25 of the weirdest, shortest, most obscure Sufjan Christmas songs. This is the island of misfit toys. The songs that have been passed over for three years. The songs that nobody wanted to write about until there was nothing left. That’s an interesting challenge — one that I’m sure will result in our most fascinating collection of write-ups yet. 

If this sounds like something that you’d be interested in participating in, please visit our writer application page here to toss your hat in the ring. Just be warned that the song you’re looking for probably isn’t there. 

On the Sufjan Front, this year our boy released a five-part two-and-a-half-hour electronic album as well as a fantastic collaborative concept album with labelmate Angelo De Augustine. He’s an unstoppable folk machine, and that’s why we love him.

Much like Mr. Steven’s discography, each year of this site has brought unique challenges and allowed us to tell different stories. I’ve run this site from three different states, and as a result, each year of a Very Sufjan Christmas feels hyper-distinct in my mind. It’s always easier to see those things in hindsight, but this project has been an exciting, tiring, inspiring tradition over the last few years, and I’m excited to finally “complete” it this year.

While I’m talking about exciting things, I’d also like to formally welcome Bethany Clancy and Wes Muilenburg to the Sufjan Christmas team. Bethany Clancy is a writer from Buffalo whose work you can find all over the music blog Unsigned Spotlight. Wes Muilenburg is a Minneapolis-based writer, primarily contributing to Ear Coffee, the blog and podcast that they co-founded in 2017. They also play in the band NATL PARK SRVC who released an excellent album earlier this year. They are both joining me this year as editors, and I can’t thank them enough for taking that weight off my shoulders. Aside from the help editing, having these two by my side checking over our submissions will be an absolute joy and will help ensure we finish out this project on a strong note. It’s probably obvious, but I couldn’t be happier to have them on board. 

So that’s where we’re at; three editors, a bunch of writers, and 25 of the weirdest Sufjan Christmas songs possible. It’s going to be a fun year, and I’m genuinely excited to share another holiday season with you all. 

Tiring and time-consuming as running this site may be, it’s one of the most rewarding parts of my holiday season, and I relish being able to share these stories with the world. As always, thank you for reading along, thank you for being here, and thank you for sharing your holiday spirit with us. We’ll see you all on December 1st. 

Love Taylor, Bethany, and Wes.

The Best of October 2021: Part 1

October brought us so much good music that I had to split our usual monthly roundup into two parts. Read on for shoegaze riffs, muscle-pumping hardcore, and one of the most stunning emo albums of all time. Click here to read The Best of October 2021: Part 2.

Hovvdy - True Love

At this point, you probably know exactly what to expect from a Hovvdy album; pleasant back-porch guitar licks, laid-back drumming, and just the slightest hint of twang. Last year I wrote about how much Heavy Lifter grew on me over the course of 2020, culminating in the album becoming a near-daily habit that coincided with the peak of fall. It feels like a cosmic coincidence that Hovvdy would drop their follow-up right as the leaves start to change and the wind regains its crisp bite. While it has yet to grow on me quite the same way that Heavy Lifter did, True Love is possibly the most accessible, catchy, and pleasant batch of Hovvdy songs to date. Whether it’s the soaring adoration of its title track, the familial connection of “Hope,” or the childlike innocence depicted on “Junior Day League,” the duo explore a wide range of folksy fall-flavored tunes throughout the album’s 40-minute runtime. 

Roseville - something about a fig tree

The Flower Bed

Much like their fellow Coloradans in Gleemer, Roseville are creating fuzzy, blissed-out dream pop songs that tackle less-than-blissful feelings. From the blurry album art to the mostly one- and two-syllable song titles, everything about fig tree screams shoegaze classic. The EP opens with a bright sway on “Safer” and winds its way from seasonally appropriate tales on “Halloween Song” to hypnotic riffage on “Out.” It may only be a bite-sized collection of five songs, but the sound on this EP is nothing short of colossal. Like all the greatest albums of the shoegaze genre, something about a fig tree is a release you can throw on and sink into like a bed of leaves or a slightly-too-big bean bag chair. 

The World Is a Beautiful Place & I Am No Longer Afraid to Die - Illusory Walls

Epitaph Records

An 80-minute post-emo, post-hardcore, post-rock album about the social, moral, and ideological rot of late-stage capitalism? AND it’s all passed through a conceptual Dark Souls filter? I am in. There’s simply no amount of hyperbole I could pack into this introduction that would do Illusory Walls justice, so I’ll just say that this was one of the most impactful first listens I’ve had with an album in years. The World Is a Beautiful Place & I Am No Longer Afraid to Die are perhaps best known for being forebears of the 2010s Emo Revival. Famous for their long name and even longer list of band members, everything about Illusory Walls seems counter to their previous work. It’s a darker, fiercer, and more focused album that was conceived amongst the group’s (now core) five members. 

While the singles range from a mixture of The Anniversary and Broken Social Scene on “Queen Sophie For President” and heavy metal riffage on “Invading the World of the Guilty as a Spirit of Vengeance,” the group rounds out distant corners of their world on songs like “We Saw Birds Through the Hole in the Ceiling” and “Your Brain is a Rubbermaid.” The cherry on top of this album comes with the one-two punch of its closing tracks. Both the 16-minute “Infinite Josh” and the 20-minute “Fewer Afraid” are absolutely jaw-dropping tracks that are guaranteed to inflict goosebumps upon any listeners who might take them in with an open heart. While “Infinite Josh” is built around a post-rock build and steadfast bassline, “Fewer Afraid” is a career highlight manifesto complete with a spoken-word passage and philosophical sentiments. The latter of these two songs evoked an actual joy-filled scream from me upon first listen when the band broke out into an interpolation of my favorite song of theirs from nearly a decade earlier. 

Over the course of this album’s final 36 minutes, the group touches on topics like death, the passage of time, religion, and the desire to make the world a better place. It’s inspiring, cosmically-affirming, and downright staggering. In one of the record’s most profound lines, friend of the band Sarah Cowell sings,

You cry at the news, I just turn it off
They say there's nothing we can do and it never stops
You believe in a god watching over
I think the world's fucked up and brutal
Senseless violence with no guiding light
I can't live like this, but I'm not ready to die

Even if you aren’t a fan of this band or emo as a whole, Illusory Walls is a boundless work that shatters nearly every preconceived notion one might have about the possibilities of this genre—an extraordinary feat of the medium.

Gollylagging - Aint That Just The Way!

Self-released

On the flip side of the emo behemoth that is Illusory Walls, we have Aint That Just The Way!, a scrappy 14-minute debut from the Boston-based quartet Gollylagging. Opening track “Capsizing” begins with a modest indie rock jangle but expertly piles up its own emotions until the entire piece erupts into post-hardcore riffage. The rest of the EP follows a similar format, combining hyper-proficient emo-inspired instrumentation with hardcore bellows and emotionally forthright lyrics. “Kangaroo” is expectedly bouncy, fun, and moshpit-inspiring while “Your Party” charges forward with a battering Dogleg-like momentum. Overall, a very energetic and promising release from a band that everyone should be watching. 

Knocked Loose - A Tear on the Fabric of Life

Pure Noise Records

There’s a reason Knocked Loose has become one of the most popular bands in hardcore, and with A Tear in the Fabric of Life, they offer a brief six-song reminder of why. In what may well be their heaviest release yet, the band distills and perfects their dynamics, alternating between atonal metallic passages and pummeling chuggy riffs. Similarly, lead singer Bryan Garris’ tormented piercing howl is punctuated by guitarist Isaac Hale’s punishing low growls at just the right times, resulting in a violent and raging excursion that jostles the listener from one spiteful sentiment to the next. 

Ship & Sail - True North

Self-released

I have been a fan and friend of Ship & Sail for as long as I’ve known Colin Haggerty. Even a cursory glance back through this blog reveals reviews, collaborations, and more stretching all the way back to his debut album in 2018. This is all to say I’ve thought a lot about it, and True North is far and away the best thing Ship & Sail has ever released. In keeping with tradition, Haggerty penned a long and heartfelt breakdown of the album we published on release day, which I strongly encourage you to go read. The record itself touches on familiar folky sentiments of past work but also stretches into exciting new territories. Album opener “The Plan” feels like a synthesis of all the best Ship & Sail songs released to date. Haggerty flexes his songwriting prowess with a stellar chorus on “Junkie Love” and grapples with mortality on “I Know A Way Around Heaven’s Gates.” Midway through the record, the title track centers around a beautiful duet between Colin and his late father that acts as a moving tribute and a beautiful song in its own right. The record culminates in “Lovely,” which shakes with a sort of Julien Baker confessionalism and is flat-out one of the most powerful songs I’ve heard all year. We should all be so lucky to have our lives memorialized in a collection of songs such as this. 

Mo Troper - Dilettante

Self-released

On Mo Troper’s Bandcamp page, the description for Dilettante begins with a definition. “Dilettante (n.): a person with an amateur interest in the arts; an album of postcard-length power pop songs. See also: Mo Troper IV.” This self-effacing introduction is actually the perfect pitch for Mo Troper’s vibrant and ever-shifting 28-song-long LP. Citing inspiration that ranges from Elliot Smith to At The Drive, this is truly an album without boundaries. Whether singing about coffee pairings, social media-induced capitalism, or decrepit action movie stars, every track is fueled by pure creativity. Most songs don’t even clear the two-minute mark, allowing for a massive collection of instantly-catchy hooks that Troper then throws over a vast swath of genres. As an album-length experience, Dilettante fits somewhere between the trifecta of Ween, Daniel Johnston, and Guided By Voices for a creative, catchy, and invigorating collection of power pop tunes. 

Superdestroyer - Such Joy

Lonely Ghost Records

Hmm, another album about the malaise of late-stage capitalism? Strikes happening across dozens of different industries? The most popular show in the world is a parable about the failures of capitalism? It’s almost like something over the last year or so has laid bare the indifference of the system in which we are forced to live… ah well, nevertheless. Such Joy, the fourth album from Superdestroyer, is a blistering 17-minute take-down of our world that openly grapples with the flaws of our endlessly greedy and increasingly imbalanced society. The release begins by wading the listener in with catchy emo chants and guitar tapping but eventually breaks out into hardcore shouts and spacy riffs. It almost feels as if the entire release is unwinding as you listen to it. Plus, each track is punctual, with most songs hovering around the 90-second mark and none stretching beyond three minutes. This makes each piece feel essential, even the instrumental trip-hop “Void” serves as a necessary pause to catch your breath before the final push. A genuinely creative and comforting collection of songs.

Quick Hits

If you’re looking for even more tunes from the past month (or so), we’ve published reviews of the new releases from Couplet, Church Girls, Sufjan Stevens, and Pictoria Vark. Alternatively, you can see my favorite songs from every album I listened to this month through this playlist. 

This Is the Scene on 11th Street When Black Midi Comes to Town | Concert Review

During the Year Of No Shows, I often daydreamed of a post-quarantine concert exuberant and outrageous enough to make up for all the nights that venues, once brimming with noisy liveliness, sat empty while musicians and would-be concertgoers alike waited patiently until they could breathe life into these spaces again. Now I’m not saying that a show must be rowdy and ear-splitting in order to be worthy of welcoming live music back from its pandemic-induced hiatus. In the months since tours having started up again, I’ve been blessed with the communal, campfire-like warmth of a Mountain Goats solo show at City Winery, the intimate giddiness of a post-Hurricane set Samia played at Union Pool, and a laid-back summer evening with Bright Eyes, Waxahatchee, and Lucy Dacus at Forest Hills Stadium. Each of these performances was moving and memorable, and each in its own way reminded me of something I’d desperately yearned for during quarantine. But it wasn’t until Tuesday night at Webster Hall that I was able to experience a concert that lived up to the magical, hell-raising insanity of my quarantine daydreams. And it wasn’t just the mosh pit-- though I’d heard from others that the pits at black midi shows go fucking crazy, and this one certainly did not disappoint. Beyond the simultaneously base and divine euphoria of getting tossed around in a sea of sweaty strangers, black midi’s show provided a fully immersive spectacle that felt as weirdly glamorous as it did grotesque. Like a night at the opera if said opera took place in the sewers where the Ninja Turtles live, or like Cirque du Soleil if Cirque du Soleil didn’t suck. From the moment they stepped onstage-- heralded by a faux pro-wrestling announcement that declared them “the heavyweight champions of London, England”  --it was like I’d entered another world. 

The whole scene was unassuming at first. The crowd had me feeling simultaneously too old and too young to be there-- mostly teenagers in Tripp pants and longhaired mid-30s white guys, at least three of whom were wearing Swans shirts. When I overheard a kid behind me in the merch line ask one of his companions, “so are you like, a black midi guy?” I had to stifle the urge to laugh and interrupt their conversation with, “it’s a black midi show; we’re ALL black midi guys.” I heard another group wishfully but doubtfully thinking aloud about whether the band would play bmbmbm, a song that some fans have christened black midi’s “Creep” (referring to both its status as the band’s signature song as well as the band’s seeming distaste for playing it live). Hours prior, bassist Cameron Picton had tweeted that they’d play it if they made $1,200 in merch tips that night. Clearly, this goal was not met (and Cam’s tweet was almost certainly made in jest-- the black midi boys are nothing if not constantly in on the joke), and their breakout track predictably did not make it onto the Webster Hall setlist. 

The band opened for themselves as alter-ego/blues fusion side project The Orange Tree Boys, an “amazing new band out of Las Vegas.” The Orange Tree Boys have previously made appearances at other live shows and on the black midi variety hour. Outfitted in camo, dark sunglasses, and delightfully faked American accents, they performed a short set of improvisational jams and AC/DC covers. Bowie had Ziggy Stardust, Beyonce had Sasha Fierce-- black midi have The Orange Tree Boys. They were followed by a haunting ambient set from Brooklyn-born multi-instrumentalist L’Rain, whose supporting spot on black midi’s US tour follows her residency at Mass MoCa. Her critically acclaimed 2021 sophomore album Fatigue lent itself beautifully to her live performance, her acrobatic vocals and delicately distorted experimental arrangements echoing through every inch of the ballroom. 

Between L’Rain’s set and black midi’s, I listened to a group of guys in front of me figure out their strategy re: opening up the pit-- who would go where, what was the best way to move up towards the front (this was before a few of them chorused “daddy? sorry. daddy? sorry. daddy? sorry” at black midi’s infinitely memeable frontman Geordie Greep). Of course, all strategy and logic dissipated the moment the lights dimmed and a disembodied voice introduced London’s heavyweight champions. The boys walked onstage to Frank Sinatra’s “New York, New York,” which cut out as they began to play erratic Schlagenheim album opener “953.” The song’s starting chords set off an almost Pavlovian reaction in the audience, sweeping us up into a human tornado. As we thrashed about, Geordie alternated between what can only be described as a disemboweled Sinatra cover over 953’s jagged post-punk anti-melody, and the song’s actual lyrics. 

One of the most striking contradictions of black midi’s music is how it’s theatrical yet unemotional. The musical experience they provide is somewhat concerned with feeling, but not so much feelings. Their songs rarely reveal any easily definable emotion. This only furthers their worldbuilding abilities, especially in their live performances. To call what I witnessed at Webster Hall a “concert” almost feels reductive, unable to encompass the depth of the rabbit hole they drag their audiences down. We zoomed through the dystopian urban development of the 2019 single “Speedway” with Cameron and his sinister, monotone vocals in the driver’s seat. On this tour’s live standout, rumored to appear on LP3, “Welcome To Hell,” Geordie became the demonic carnival barker of our nightmares, calling for us to “listen, listen!” and setting the crowd aflame while chanting the names of plagues-- “Cholera! Malaria!” And how can I begin to adequately describe the mass psychosis that was this specific live rendition of “John L,” a song I’ve heard half a dozen live recordings of, all of which sound wildly different from one another. As Geordie reached the verse where he speaks from the perspective of the song’s titular disgraced cult leader, the audience seemed to become the cult itself-- “crowds of every age, creed, and gender...overwhelmed by their king.” Geordie Greep-as-John L’s “gargling non-song” incited what looked/sounded/felt like a collective exorcism, making all of us players black midi’s show.

This was also one of the few moments in which I was lucky enough to get a decent view of Morgan Simpson, quite possibly one of the greatest drummers working today. To hear his intricately crafted chaos on black midi’s records is one thing, but to see him in action is transcendent, his free jazz drumming tying together black midi’s genre-defying sound. Since the band first broke into the spotlight, it’s been clear that it’s Morgan’s intricate yet bombastic rhythms that anchor black midi’s wild sonic landscapes to some semblance of coherence. black midi’s music is like a rickety wooden rollercoaster-- there’s a thrill in feeling like it’s about to fall apart beneath you --Morgan’s drums are like the screws that hold the rollercoaster together, but not tight enough to keep you from wondering “is this safe?” (also, much like my first time riding the Cyclone, I was having so much fun getting knocked around that it wasn’t until later on that I realized that something-- or someone --had hit me in the mouth making me bleed a little). The boys are as in sync with one another as ever, and the addition of touring members Kaidi Akinnibi on saxophone and Seth Evans on keys have helped to fatten the band’s already larger-than-life sound to fill the increasingly spacious venues they’ve been booking since the release of 2021 sophomore album Cavalcade.

Memorable moments from the night went beyond just musical ones. Seth and Geordie sparred with one another between songs, the audience egging them on. Kaidi, in his ruffled shirt and sequined mask, mimicked the disciplinarian sternness of a disappointed teacher as he broke up their “fight” (the end of the show saw Geordie chasing Seth offstage with a toy sword). At one point, Cam hopped down from the stage with a pizza box in hand and passed out slices to the rabid crowd.

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black midi’s chameleonic nature transcends the versatility of their music. Known to make appearances dressed up as chefs, doctors, astronauts, businessmen, and as the aforementioned Orange Tree Boys, they’re always filling out the world of their performances. They’ve struck a perfect balance between how seriously they take their craft and how seriously they don’t take themselves. Their live shows have become masterclasses in the art of Committing To The Bit. Yet their campy, over-the-top presentation never feels like a gimmicky attempt to pander to their audience or solidify their status as a Definitive Gen-Z Band. Moreover, it makes the moments of true beauty and emotional resonance all the more striking. Live favorite “27 Q” had Geordie going full crooner; his vocal delivery was lovely, but it was a loveliness that still fit into the wacky Looney Tunes bullshit of the black midi musical universe. Then came cacophonous closer, “Slow,” in which Cameron’s melodic vocals guided the song to its violent, apocalyptic climax (the image of Cameron standing atop an amp stoically shrieking the word “slowly” over and over again will forever be burned into my memory). 

After the band put down their instruments and gathered at the edge of the stage to say goodnight, Geordie called out to us with a wink that he’d see us tomorrow night, “And the next night! And the night after that! And the night after that! In Hell, where you’ll burn for coming to this show, you fuckin’ sinners! Go home!” If Hell is anything like a black midi show, I don’t wanna go to Heaven.

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Grace Robins-Somerville is a writer from Brooklyn, New York. You can find her on Instagram @grace_roso and on Twitter @grace_roso.

Pictoria Vark – I Can't Bike | Single Review

There are some artists you will never forget hearing for the first time. Maybe you remember precisely where you were, when it was, or how you first stumbled across them. Sometimes the experience itself is notable, but more often than not, our brain decides to lock these feelings of initial discovery into its long-term memory banks because the music connects with us in some profound way. You hear the song, and you’re struck with some variation of “how have I gone my whole life without this?”

I have many artists that fall under this criteria, but one project I’ll never forget hearing for the first time is Soccer Mommy. I had never heard of Sophia Allison or her band until 2018’s Clean, which had just released and was the talk of the town in indie music circles at the time. I threw that album on, and everything seemed to click all at once. It was gorgeously produced, instrumentally stunning, and disarmingly confessional. I’d never heard anyone sing about those topics quite the way that Allison does on that record. 

When I press play on “I Can’t Bike,” the newest single from Pictoria Vark, I am immediately struck with the same things I felt when I first heard Soccer Mommy all the way back in 2018. Pictoria Vark is the solo project of Victoria Park, a clever spoonerism that allows Park to explore the brutal and ever-changing waters of her twenties through earnest and emotional indie rock. This similarity to bands like Soccer Mommy isn’t found just in the song’s brilliant instrumental or structural modesty, but a deeper ethos rooted in something universal, human, and truthful. 

Much like the best songs from Soccer Mommy, Snail Mail, or any of those deeply personal bedroom-born indie rock projects, “I Can’t Bike” hinges on the singer grappling with some form of personal failure. These songs find their heroes recognizing something they’re bad at and struggling with that fact openly. This form of harsh self-judgment is an immensely relatable experience, especially for people in their early 20s just on the cusp of entering adulthood and encountering new pratfalls in seemingly every area of life. 

Sometimes these personal failings can come from our own lack of experience, and other times it’s because we’re unfairly comparing ourselves to those around us. In the case of “I Can’t Bike,” the song finds Park honing in on near-imperceptible ticks of someone she’s known for years and realizing that she has her emotional work cut out for herself. It’s easy to get hung up when you’re on the receiving end of these types of interactions, but that’s where music becomes the perfect outlet. Rather than harp on these negative emotions, Park turns them into a communal outpouring that any listener can absorb and fit into their world. 

“I Can’t Bike” begins with, of all things, a steady bassline. While this initially might seem like an odd way to kick the track off, the instrument doesn’t sound out of place in the slightest. In fact, once you find out that Park has played bass for the likes of Squirrel Flower and Dee Snider, this choice seems like a no-brainer. 

Within seconds, Park’s delicate croon enters, setting the scene as her bass keeps time. Thirty seconds into the song, the guitar and drums (all played by Park) enter the fray, propelling the track forward while still keeping the pace set by the initial soothing bassline. The song rolls onward with momentum and adoration reminiscent of Blue Deputy’s “New Jersey,” weaving a lush mid-paced Beach House-esque instrumental that the listener can fully luxuriate in. 

As this rising instrumental punctuates each verse, the track eventually culminates in an eruption of distorted guitar around the two-minute mark for a fiery solo that offers a mixture of catharsis and redemption. As the music video shows, this song is not actually about biking at all, but finding comfort in the presence of close friends. The title “I Can’t Bike” captures one possible meaning of the complicated world of early-adulthood emotions while the lyrics capture another. The single is crafted so that anyone can listen and project their experiences onto it, finding comfort in the fact that they are not alone.