Swim Into The Sound's Staff Favorites of 2021

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Back in the early days of this site, I would feel a strange sense of accomplishment whenever someone would talk about Swim Into The Sound as if it were run by multiple people. I suppose sometimes it’s just common practice to refer to a website with plural terms like “you guys” or “the team,” but it always made me proud that I alone was making something that could possibly be mistaken for the work of multiple people. 

And sure, we’ve had guest writers before 2021, but they were usually few and far between. Previously, guest posts were typically just one-off articles, published once or twice per year. All of that changed in 2021 as a lineup of a half-dozen or so writers solidified into regular contributors over the course of the year.

At the beginning of 2021, I made a resolution to myself to post one article here every week. I’m proud to say that we surpassed that goal and then some, and it wouldn’t have been possible without the help of these talented writers. In total, we had 22 guest posts throughout the year (23, if you count this one), and I could not be more appreciative of that fact. Without these writer’s talent and hard work, this site would have had long gaps between posts at multiple points throughout the year. Simply put, they helped this site immensely throughout 2021 and really helped Swim Into The Sound feel like a legitimate music blog. 

Another cool thing about bringing in this wealth of outside talent and perspectives is that I can connect the dots a little bit more. On any given week, I receive a number of emails and DMs that I consider “suffocating.” Whether they’re for an upcoming song, music video, or album, these things pile up in my inboxes and bury me alive. Even if these solicitations come from bands or labels that I love, I don’t have the time to personally write about every release that I want to. Now that I have something resembling a staff, I can send these upcoming releases to a group chat and quickly find someone who’s eager to write about this music with the love and care that it deserves. 

Connecting those dots has led to some cool opportunities and extraordinary pieces of writing this year. Amongst other things, our staff wrote awesome album reviews, single write-ups, multiple incredible interviews, premieres, concert reviews, and more. I’m immensely proud of everything that’s been published on the site this year, and I’m excited to see what 2022 has in store for us. For now though, let’s take one last look through 2021 as I turn the site over to our staff to hear about their favorite records of the year.

Cailen Pygott | Weakened Friends - Quitter

It was October 28th when Taylor initially proposed this collection of album of the year reviews. At the time, two albums were neck and neck for my personal first place. As I was busy prepping for multiple re-listens, massive pro and con lists, and an east coast west coast style song bracket to determine who would reign supreme, a thought occurred to me: ‘I should probably wait for the three weeks until Weakened Friends release Quitter.’ This is an album I’ve been expecting to top my year-end list ever since the single “What You Like” came out (holy shit) two years ago. Sonia Sturino is one of a handful of songwriters whose lyrics feel could have been ripped straight from my daily journaling practice if I had kept at it for longer than two days. The way Sturino’s songs express feelings of isolation, heartbreak, and the fear that you, yes you specifically, are fucking everything up is a pure reflection of my inner monologue on my worst days. Am I just projecting? Survey says probably, but this album friggin’ rips all the same. I graduated from a two-year community college music program, and the technical term for these guitars is “frickin’ thick dude.” I’ve believed for years that we as a society don’t talk about Annie Hoffman the bass player enough, but Quitter is also a brilliant showcase of her work as a producer. There’s an ever-rising level of intensity throughout that hits its climax in “Haunted House” and carries through the final two tracks showing off a mastery of compositional arrangement. All of the songs on Quitter stand on their own, but it’s this care and attention paid to the album as a singular work of art that makes it my AOTY. 

Fun fact: My band No, It’s Fine. included a version of “Early” on our 2021 cover album (It’s Nice To Pretend) We Wrote These Songs. Now here are some made-up superlatives to highlight most of the music that shaped my year. Some of these are older, but they’re still important to me, dang it!

  • Best Guitar Solo - Cheekface “Next to Me”

  • Best New song by a Twitter mutual I’ve never met - Pictoria Vark “I Can’t Bike”

  • Band I’d most like to be friends with - Year Twins

  • Favourite band I discovered due to mutual barista rage - Puppy Angst

  • Favorite Rediscovery - The Drew Thomson Foundation - Self Titled

  • Song that made me cry the most times - Rosie Tucker “Ambrosia” and “Habanero”

  • Best podcast soundtrack - Planet Arcana

  • Best band I got into this year only to realize they already broke up - Lonely Parade

  • Album that got me through running 5ks when I still had the motivation to run 5ks - Gregory Pepper & His Problems - I Know Now Why You Cry

  • Song that made me feel better about my body for but one fleeting moment - Durry “Who’s Laughing Now”

Connor Fitzpatrick | Mdou Moctar - Afrique Victime

Mdou Moctar is the most important guitarist in the game right now, and 2021 has been his year. I’ve been a fan of his for a few years now, so it’s been rewarding to see him and his band get their shine. Afrique Victime is Moctar’s best work yet. It’s not much of a departure from Ilana: The Creator, but a refinement of what makes their music so special. The album’s got loud shredding (“Chismiten”), hypnotic grooves (“Ya Habibiti”), and heartfelt balladry (“Tala Tannam”). What sets the virtuosic Tuareg guitar player apart from the pack is just how expressive and unpredictable his phrasing is. On the title track, the band spends four minutes developing an entrancing rhythm before Moctar’s guitar drops off only to come back, detached from the rest of the band, in a firestorm of noise and anger while the band continues to play faster and faster. It’s a breathtaking moment that mirrors Mdou’s lyrics of colonial destruction in Western Africa. One of the most frustrating things for me in the coverage of Mdou Moctar has been the knee-jerk reaction to compare him to guitar gods of the past. It’s an attempt to display his prowess as a musician, but ultimately it takes the spotlight away from how singular he is. There is only one Mdou Moctar, and Afrique Victime is his crowning achievement. 


My 10 favorite Bandcamp purchases of 2021:

Joe Wasserman | Mo Troper - Dilettante

I am a sucker for hearing the warm buzz of a tube amp. “My Parrot,” a song about an avian existential crisis, is what sold me on Dilettante despite my already being totally sold on Mo Troper. “Wet T-Shirt Contest” has a rumbling, buoyant bass line while the listener yearns to discern just why the speaker “never [wants] to see those nipples again.” These are just two tracks off Dilettante’s 28-song playlist-as-album/data dump. Troper is masterful in crafting infectious songs that can withstand the test of time, much like The Beatles.


Runner-up: Dazy - MAXIMUMBLASTSUPERLOUD: The First 24 Songs
To some, I might be cheating with this one. Only the first 16 songs are from 2021; the rest are off 2020 EPs. Regardless, Dazy’s MAXIMUMBLASTSUPERLOUD: The First 24 Songs is another masterclass in to-the-point, effective, worming power pop that is not too sugary. After discovering Dazy while reading an interview with David Anthony, I listened to the album while playing Call of Duty, exercising, doing the dishes, walking the dogs, and pretty much anything else in my life. MAXIMUMBLASTSUPERLOUD is upbeat, frenetic, and makes me feel happy, which speaks droves given how the last few years have gone on both the grand and granular levels.


Albums/EPs That Deserve More Attention (in no specific order):

Grace Robins-Somerville | black midi - Cavalcade

Likes: the abundance of exciting new bands coming out of the Windmill Brixton scene. Dislikes: nearly everything that’s been written about them. 

I’ll sit down to read almost any piece about a group like black midi, and here come the critic’s thoughts on Squid, Shame, Dry Cleaning, Black Country New Road, Goat Girl– as though they can’t help but lump all these groups together. Sure, there are some surface-level similarities between the heavy hitters– they’re British, they all make guitar-led post-rock adjacent music that often includes talk-singing, many have worked with producer Dan Carey, and 2021 was a big year for all of them. But in reality, these bands don’t have much else in common, and the tendency to hyperfocus on one band’s niche in a particular scene often overlooks what makes them unique. 

Anyway, now that I’ve hypocritically discussed black midi solely in the context of their contemporaries, let’s dive into my AOTY: the decadent kaleidoscope of controlled chaos that is their sophomore album Cavalcade. My love for black midi is well-documented. Their music often feels like the audio equivalent of this picture in the best possible way. They have a penchant for sequencing their albums in a way that shouldn’t work but somehow does: How better to follow up a satirical prog-rock cautionary tale about a cult leader who gets overthrown by his once-loyal followers (complete with a helicopter feature), than with a bossa nova ballad for German-American film-and-cabaret star Marlene Dietrich? An abrasive punk track about two runaway thieves (who may or may not be chickens?) somehow segues perfectly into a 10-minute pun-based Scott Walker-esque closer about a musician interrogating the integrity of his art. And yeah, the middle of an album is totally the best place for a delicately droning slow-burner inspired by an Isabel Waidner novel. This all might paint an unfairly pretentious picture of black midi, but the real magic of their music is that it never gets quite so esoteric or technical that it stops being fun. If I haven’t convinced you of that, perhaps this Britney Spears cover will.


Runners-Up: 

Jack Hansen-Reed | Home Is Where – I Became Birds

2021 was a great year, and this was shaping up to be a tough decision for me until I Became Birds blew me away. In only an 18 minute “album,” Home Is Where deliver a release that can only be described as an enigma. The record has been (frequently) likened to Neutral Milk Hotel due to its folk influence/instrumentation and unique vocal deliveries, but it would be an injustice to say that I Became Birds is truly following in anyone’s footsteps. This record weaves capriciously between genres, transporting you from insanely cathartic rushes of power and emotion to serene moments of haunting beauty. If you’re a first-time listener, get ready for some goosebumps, because they’re coming.

With a release like this that so boisterously defies singular categorization, you’re forced to describe it by no one else’s labels or descriptors, only through your own experience. First, I have to say that vocally this is a powerhouse performance that continues to impress me every time I go back to it. Somehow, vocalist Brandon MacDonald is able to match the furious range of the instrumentals showcased here and add endlessly to their intensity. More than anything else, to me, this release is a powerful and kinetic journey that would be impossible to achieve without its mix of jarring yet apt lyrics, incredibly expressive tone, and just in general great instrumental performances. I Became Birds stands above the rest as my release of 2021 because it excites me like nothing else this year. It sparks me to go wild at shows, plumb the darkest corners of my mind, and of course, to hear what incredible material Home Is Where is cooking up next.


Runners-up:

  • Like a Stone – Remember Sports

  • Future Suits – Pet Symmetry

  • Pono - A Great Big Pile of Leaves

The Best of November 2021

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A strange thing happened when I sat down to look at my list of albums and EPs that were released this November… Nothing really grabbed me. Sure there were a few big albums and some deep cuts for mega fans, but nothing that I felt compelled to cover in a monthly roundup. That’s no fault of the artists, more a byproduct of the music industry combined with my declining desire to “keep up” with new music at this time of year. Things tend to grind to a halt around the holidays, and I’m brave enough to admit that I’m more checked-out than I have been all year. 

Interestingly, when looking through my monthly Spotify playlist, there were a lot of singles that came out in November which I enjoyed, so I’m pivoting this (probably) final roundup of 2021 to focus on my favorite songs that were released over the past month.


Greet Death - “Your Love Is Alcohol”

Deathwish Inc.

I simply cannot stop listening to Greet Death. Seriously. Almost every time I’m ****** and don’t know what I want to listen to, I’ll just throw on this playlist and let their discography roll from the top. “Your Love is Alcohol” is the newest single from the band, following the awesomely dour “I Hate Everything” from a couple of months back. It’s still unclear whether these songs are building up to a full LP or are just one-off singles, but either way, I’m consuming them voraciously. For the most part, both songs drop Greet Death’s trademarked fuzzy shoegaze riffs and swap that distortion for something the band is describing as “Blackened Post-Alt-Country.”

Given its title, the band’s latest song could easily veer into hyper-unoriginal “your love is a drug” type territory; however, Greet Death deftly avoid this hackneyed sentiment in favor of something far more ownable. The track features a laid-back lounge singer soundscape led by a gorgeous piano and acoustic guitar. There’s a nice little harmonica solo, a cool reversed effect on the drums, and lyrics that hinge on pain and abandonment. It’s literally everything I want from my music. Greet Death forever.


Glass Beach - “orchids (playlist version)”

Run For Cover Records

In 2019 Glass Beach released their unforgettable debut album. Packed with songs of community, longing, and Christmas lights, the first glass beach album is a landmark record that sits at the intersection of emo and electronic music. The band’s debut has (rightfully) garnered a fervent fanbase over the last two years, but there was one problem; “orchids,” the album’s epic closing track, ends with roughly 30 seconds of meditative silence, and some fans didn’t like that. Early on in November, the band joked that their second album would “be the first album but with no silence at the end of orchids and silence added to the end every other song.” It quickly became a meme reinforced by fans and the band alike. Soon after that, the group dropped “orchids (playlist version),” an identical version of the 2019 song but with no silence at the end. Simply revolutionary. This, of course, led to further jokes, but also a good reason for the non-diehards to revisit the band’s first LP. Is it cheating to include what’s essentially a two-year-old song on a roundup of new releases? Maybe. Does that make “orchids” slap any less? Absolutely not. 


Caracara - “Hyacinth”

Memory Music

If there were any justice in the world, Caracara would be lauded with the same level of reverence as emo gods like The Hotelier and TWIABP. Sure they’re only 1.5 records deep into their career, but man, those 1.5 records we have so far are fantastic. Throughout their 60-ish minutes of recorded music, the band expertly wields remorseful emo sentiments over arid indie rock instrumentals for firey emotional outpourings. Songs like “Better” deserve to be as iconic as tracks like “Your Deep Rest” or “The Night I Drove Alone.” Caracara’s songs wind from natural wonder on “Crystalline” to left-field Foxing-style instrumentation on “Prenzlauerberg.” It’s evident that the band has depth, talent, and artistic vision; it’s just a matter of finding their audience and unleashing their sound upon them at the right time. The group’s newest single, “Hyacinth,” reassembles all of Caracara’s distinguishing elements for a bite-sized three-minute re-introduction to the band as they plot out their long-deserved indie rock domination.


The Wonder Years - “Threadbare”

Hopeless Records

The Wonder Years have been my favorite band for over a decade now. I’ve written about this love at length before, but that ten-year figure speaks for itself. Whether through the main band, solo projects, or some combination of the two, this group has released something substantial every year for the last decade, making them an immensely rewarding group of creatives to follow. Back in 2008, The Wonder Years released a song called “Christmas at 22,” which (as the title implies) talks about the holiday season from a fresh-faced, youthful perspective. In that song, the band talks about house parties, seeing childhood friends during the holidays, and subsisting on frozen pizza. Now, over a decade later, the group has released their second-ever Christmas song in “Threadbare.” It should come as no surprise that this one-off single reflects the decade-plus of maturity that the members have built up in the intervening years. Now discussing their families and loved ones with the reverence of wisened family men, “Threadbare” is a touching release that feels more like getting a holiday card from an old friend you still love but don’t talk to nearly as often as you should. 

Guitar Fight From Fooly Cooly - “Pyramid” 

Self-released

Last year, Guitar Fight From Fooly Cooly racked up a placement on our 2020 AOTY list for their debut album Soak. Featuring jittery instrumentals, tappy guitars, and skull-crushing breakdowns, Soak was a fun, energetic, and youthful emo record that genuinely feels like a torchbearer for the true spirit of the genre. This month, the group released “Pyramid,” a one-off addendum to last year’s impressive output which bears many of the same qualities. There’s shreddy guitar, gnashing bass, and snare that sound like a fucking dodgeball. It’s bouncy, fist-balling fun that culminates in a hardcore breakdown that will undoubtedly set off every live show the band puts on for the end of time.


Floating Room - Shima

Famous Class

I lied; this roundup won’t be all singles because Floating Room released the awesome Shima early on in November, and I simply have to write about it. Throughout this four-track EP, the Portland-based dream rock group helmed by Maya Stoner wafts from punchy punk rock to swaying shoegaze with ease. Whether penning love songs or bowling the listener over with raw emotions, Shima is a breathtaking 11 minutes of music. The heart of this EP comes at the end with “Shimanchu,” a blistering 3-minute song about feeling ostracized and tokenized in almost any given community. The band describes this track as both “a paean to Stoner's Uchinanchu heritage and a retort to the condescension she faces daily as an Asian American woman.” It’s a ferocious, catchy, and compelling song with a vital message (and a fun music video) that has already begun to find its audience.


Carly Cosgrove - “Munck”

Wax Bodega

When I first uncovered Carly Cosgrove, the band felt like a revelation. An iCarly-themed emo band? What a perfect four-word pitch. I may have been just-too-old to ride the iCarly Train, but I respect any group of creatives that can find each other, bond, and create art over such a specific shared interest. After cultivating their audience with an EP in 2019, and a double in 2020, “Munck” seems to be the launchpad lead single for the group’s yet-to-be-revealed upcoming full-length album. Both sonically and lyrically, “Munck” feels like the closest thing I’ve heard to a band picking up the baton laid down by Modern Baseball in 2016; an incredibly promising emo rock cut by a group of young creatives who are staying true to themselves. Here’s where I’d sneak in an iCarly reference if I ever watched the show, so I’ll just leave this here instead.


Wild Pink - “Florida”

Royal Mountain Records

Whenever an artist warns, “this song really picks up around the seven-minute mark,” I am in. Some people may hear that and tune out, but as I’ve recently discovered, that’s extremely my shit. The newest single from Wild Pink is a woozy nine-minute epic that also doubles as a perfect cap to a busy year. After dropping one of 2021’s first serious AOTY contenders in February, the New York-based heartland rock outfit has since released an EP, covers, collabs, and even a live album, all within the last 12 months. I loved them all, but with each release I thought, ‘surely that’s it,’ then lead singer John Ross found another way to breathe life back into the world of his particular blend of indie rock Americana. In what is surely the capper to a banner year for the project, “Florida” acts as a long and winding thank you to a year spent together. 


Quick Hits

For the sake of completion regarding November, we also had some excellent reviews from guest writers this month about the new releases from Snarls and Delta Sleep which I heartily endorse. 

​​BURSTING THE BUBBLE: AN INVESTIGATION INTO BUBBLEGRUNGE

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Wednesday December 1st was a Big Day For Annoying People. If you’re reading this, I can assume that you’re already aware of its significance, but on the off chance that you’re not, it was Spotify Wrapped, the day that good little Spotify users everywhere woke up to find their yearly listening history compiled into a brightly-colored slideshow of stats. Along with some new features (Have you ever wondered which song would play over the opening credits in a movie of your life, or what color your “audio aura” is?) and some cringey, shoehorned-in buzzwords du jour (“While everyone else was trying to figure out what an NFT is, you were slaying 2021 with your main character vibes!”), were the traditional Spotify Wrapped presents we’ve come to expect-- a playlist of your 100 most-played songs of the year, as well as a ranking of your top 5 artists and genres. The latter category is what I want to focus on here. My own Spotify Wrapped raised a notable question-- no, not “did I really listen to 11 episodes of True Anon in one day?” although I did ask myself that. I, like many other Spotify users, took a look at my top 5 genres laid out in that disgusting “graphic design is my passion” font and asked, “What in the goddamn hell is ‘bubblegrunge?’”

My first encounter with the term ‘bubblegrunge’ was about a week before Spotify Wrapped on the application Stats For Spotify. I assumed it was one of those seemingly algorithm-generated music genres like ‘escape room’-- a similarly puzzling item on my top genres list from last year. On the day that Spotify Wrapped came out, it seemed like everyone on my Twitter feed was both trying to pin down a definition of the genre and ripping it to shreds. A quick glance at the tweets from music fans with bubblegrunge in their top 5 genres and those from artists who’d had the bubblegrunge label thrust upon them initially led me (and others) to believe that it was corporate streaming platform-speak for “pop-punk sung by a woman,” but I decided to investigate further.

Tracking “bubblegrunge” as a search term on Google Trends revealed a sharp uptick in google searches on December 1st, peaking at around 11:00 am (presumably shortly after most Spotify users checked their Spotify Wrapped). When I googled the term a few hours after its peak popularity, I found the following Urban Dictionary definition from 2013:

I assumed that this definition was somewhat obsolete by 2021’s standards. I’ve listened to almost no radio-friendly 90s/early 00s grunge-pop of this sort recently, so if this were the definition that Spotify was working with, it wouldn’t make much sense data-wise for the genre to show up on my year-end list. Most of the artists I’d been seeing in the lists of people with bubblegrunge as one of their top genres were bands that blended modern pop-punk with elements of 90s garage rock nostalgia-- think Kississippi, Charly Bliss, and Diet Cig. I wondered if, in this context, bubblegrunge might refer to what illuminati hotties frontwoman Sarah Tudzin has coined “tenderpunk,” defined by its irreverent yet affectionate infusion of DIY punk. “There’s a sweeter vulnerability to it, and then there’s a tongue-in-cheek, give-no-fucks attitude,” Tudzin explained in a 2019 interview with SF Weekly. 

I searched “bubblegrunge” on Spotify. The first result was Spotify’s official Sound of Bubblegrunge playlist. Among the related playlists linked in its description were ones dedicated to Indie Pop, Midwest Emo, 5th Wave Emo, Philly Indie, and a playlist exclusively dedicated to female-fronted bands in the bubblegrunge genre. This did little to disprove my initial write-off of bubblegrunge as just another attempt from the music streaming industrial complex to push “female-fronted” as its own musical genre. 

Returning to the Sounds of Bubblegrunge playlist, I saw that many of the artists featured on it were ones that I’d expected based on previous context clues. Each of the aforementioned artists had at least one song on the playlist, and other artists with overlapping fanbases were featured prominently as well. Generally, it seemed like a convergence of bedroom pop (Cherry Glazerr, Adult Mom, Sir Babygirl), emo (Slaughter Beach Dog, Radiator Hospital, Home Is Where), pop-punk (Pinkshift, Oceanator, Antarctigo Vespucci), and some folk-infused alt-pop (Lucy Dacus, Waxahatchee, Samia). There was also some straightforward guitar rock like Snail Mail, some more experimental cuts from artists like Spirit of the Beehive, and even a few ska tracks from bands like Bomb The Music Industry and We Are The Union. For the most part, all of the songs included seemed to be from the 2010s or early 2020s. Other than that, and the tendency toward the broad umbrella category of “indie,” I saw little cohesion that would warrant grouping these songs into a defined genre or subgenre. A similar algorithmically-generated playlist titled Intro to Bubblegrunge had a link to Sounds of Bubblegrunge in its description and seemed to offer a smaller sample of bubblegrunge highlights, though its content seemed somewhat indistinguishable from one of the algorithm’s standard indie rock playlists.

I decided that if I was going to do a deep dive into the genre, I had to also look into the users’ interpretations of the ‘bubblegrunge’ label. One of the first user-curated playlists to come up was one that mainly consisted of what I might jokingly refer to as “tiktokcore”-- I’d use the term not as a genre descriptor, so much as a means of categorizing music associated with a certain platform, grouping together artists like beabadoobee and girl in red. Much of the playlist also included big-name contemporary pop artists like Solange and Lorde, as well as some 90s shoegaze icons like Cocteau Twins and Mazzy Star. Once again, I saw very little cohesion within the genre label; the main commonality tying together all the music I was encountering was that most of it would be at home on a playlist called something like “songs for pretending that you’re the main character.” The bubblegrunge for beginners playlist was a bit more streamlined-- partly by virtue of its brevity, at least compared to the other bubblegrunge playlists that clocked in at 10+ hours with tracklists in the triple digits --and had a focus on late-2010s/early 2020s pop-punk and emo. This playlist, which called bubblegrunge “the best genre!” had a similar blend of emo, indie rock, and tiktok-adjacent alt-pop, with a focus on female vocals. Had there been more inclusion of earlier acts— ones that have influenced the sound of contemporary bubblegrunge —the case could be made for artists like Letters to Cleo, Veruca Salt, and Juliana Hatfield to be called bubblegrunge pioneers.

Though a decent number of non-female fronted acts were featured on bubblegrunge playlists, I was feeling a certain frustration with the “genre,” not unlike the frustration I feel towards the “sad girl indie” movement in music (many of the recommended playlists in featured below the bubblegrunge playlists I checked out were ones along the lines of Spotify’s sad girl starter pack). Much has already been written about the subtle sexism of the “sad girl” label and how it casts a limiting, two-dimensional view of female musicians and their work. Several of the so-called “sad girls” of indie music have publicly criticized the label. In a 2017 interview, Mitski confronted the perception of her as a “fevered priestess,” calling out the ways in which public discussion of female musicians often implicitly strips them of their ownership over their work and disregards their intentionality and technical skill. In a tweet from earlier this year, Lucy Dacus expressed her qualms with “sad girl indie”-- how it often exploits female pain, flattens complex emotional expression by slapping on the vague label of “sadness,” and pushes a harmful narrative that equates womanhood with suffering.

I know that on the surface, it may seem hypocritical of me to point to the inclusion of “sad girl indie” artists like Soccer Mommy and Indigo De Souza on bubblegrunge playlists as my reason for finding the two genre labels similarly frustrating. In doing so, aren’t I feeding into the “women-as-genre” propaganda? Not to mention the various non-female voices included on the bubblegrunge playlists I’ve come across in my investigation. Still, between the cutesy genre name and the algorithmic emphasis on female vocalists, it’s hard not to be skeptical. The other commonalities that make the argument for bubblegrunge to be considered a “real” genre of music paint with a broad brush at best (“post-2010 indie guitar-led pop-rock” is pretty vague criteria). 

This is not to entirely disregard newer music genres as illegitimate-- if someone said the word “hyperpop” to you three years ago, would you have any idea what they were talking about? New genres arise all the time as music evolves-- my issue isn’t with the newness, but with the attempt to put a name to a category that does not exist. What “bubblegrunge” really reveals is how detached corporate streaming platforms are from the artists that they’re featuring (and grossly underpaying). I’m not the first to point out that Spotify Wrapped is essentially a brand’s approximation of personal connection-- they made you a personalized mixtape; look how well they know their artists and users! When they try to put a name to a genre that isn’t really a genre at all, it’s nothing more than a lame attempt to homogenize and generalize a vast variety of artists, disregarding their creative and sonic diversity. Bottom line: corporations don’t define music, musicians do. 

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

McMenamins and the Rustic Charm of Band Of Horses

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I never write about my hometown, partially because it’s trite, and partially because I’ve only recently begun to realize the things that make it unique. In the time since I moved away from Oregon in 2018, I’ve gained a new perspective on the place where I spent the first 25 years of my life. 

For starters, where my family lives in Portland is far enough out in the suburbs that it shouldn’t even legally be considered “Portland” on the postal code. My childhood home is about ten miles away from downtown Portland proper; too far for any sense of culture or nightlife, but just close enough to reap the benefits of Portlandia if you really wanted to make the effort.

I have plenty of favorite bars, restaurants, and attractions in Portland that I’d recommend to someone visiting from out of town, but I also have an equally long list of lowkey personal faves. When I get homesick for Portland, I’m typically missing my friends, family, and childhood home, but when I think about the creature comforts that lie 1,257 west of me, I often think specifically of McMenamins Rock Creek Tavern. 

For those not from the Pacific Northwest, McMenamins is a chain of local, family-owned brewpubs that are primarily located in rehabilitated historical properties. They own restaurants, music venues, hotels, theaters, and more. Each location is decked out in a distinct handpainted style that artists have dubbed "historical surrealism." They also brew their own beers, ciders, wines, and coffees. The food itself is good-to-great pub fare, but usually the experience itself is worth the price of admission. 

While some Mcmenamins are in highly populated downtown areas or attractions all their own, many are found in slightly off-the-beaten-path locations, and Rock Creek Tavern might be the best example of this. 

Described as a “secluded outpost” of the McMenamins chain, the Rock Creek location is hidden away in the countryside of Hillsboro. It initially used to be an old repurposed barn house, but that location burned down in 2002. A new building was erected years later in the image of its predecessor, even going so far as to use timber from two local barns in the rebuild (one of which dates all the way back to the late 1800s). 

The Mcmenamins’ website accurately describes this location as a “rustic lair,” and honestly, I’m having a hard time thinking of a better two-word descriptor for it. The building is creaky, dark, and has a deep smell of cedar. The outside is covered in moss and surrounded by local fauna for an authentic tucked-away-in-the-forest pub feel. There’s a pool table, shuffleboard, and even giant wooden mushrooms that glow softly for the perfect woodland ambiance. 

When I picture Rock Creek Tavern in my mind, it instantly conjures up a perplexing mixture of comfort and nostalgia, which is how I imagine lots of people feel about a random bar or restaurant from their hometown. The big difference is that Mcmenamins often feels cool enough to warrant those rose-tinted goggles. I visit almost every time I return home, and it always lives up to my memory. 

The kicker about this location, and what’s most pertinent to this site as a music blog, is that McMenamins Rock Creek Tavern also features live music performances every night around 8 PM. This means that sometimes you’d be wrapping up your dinner or just sitting down right as a group of dudes sauntered in, hunkered down, and started busting out instruments. It’s honestly very DIY, a modest setup with an amp or two tucked away in a corner near the entryway of the building. 

Music would flow through the place each night, and you never knew what you were going to get. Some evenings it would be a suitably-folksy banjo-led stompfest; other times, it would be a group of four dads laying down one seemingly never-ending twelve-bar blues lick. No matter the genre or arrangement, it was always an experience, and the live music is a real wild card benefit that came with dining there. 

This location is about 15 miles outside of downtown Portland, so it’s out of the way for most people but only a stone’s throw away for my family and me. The Grimes Clan would often venture to this location for a burger and a brew a handful of times each year for most of my young adulthood. It took us far enough out in the country that our phones didn’t work and (especially before the advent of smartphones) always felt like we were being transported into another world. 

If you’re curious what the place looks like, you can scroll back in my Instagram a few years to see a picture I snapped while looking down on the band’s setup from our table in the upper balcony. You can really tell the vibe, from the low-light stained glass to the two dudes in suede hats setting up instruments. Maybe it’s just because I’ve been there, but looking at that picture, I can practically taste the Cajun Tater Tot seasoning and dark, chocolaty Terminator Stout. 

This combination of senses isn’t something I’ve been able to replicate anywhere else. Rock Creek Tavern is a one-of-a-kind combination of sights, smells, flavors, and sounds that can only happen in a Mcmenamins. That’s why I get homesick for this specific restaurant; it’s a feeling I’ve spent a good chunk of my life fortifying, replicating, and memorizing. While I haven’t been able to visit McMenamins Rock Creek Tavern lately, one thing I have been able to do is listen to Band of Horses.

It’s not like I’ve seen Band of Horses play at ​​McMenamins Rock Creek Tavern (they’ve almost always been far too big of a band for that sort of gig), but the group’s first two albums are incredibly nostalgic and personal to me in the same way that ​​McMenamins is. Maybe it’s just a byproduct of when I uncovered their music (and how powerfully “The Funeral” has been used in countless movies and TV shows), but I would consider both Cease To Begin and Everything All The Time to be some of the best alternative records of the 2000s. On some level, this feels like a bold claim for a decade whose alternative music is primarily defined by groups like The Strokes and The White Stripes. Band of Horses came at the tail end of that era and just barely preceded the overbearing folk twee of groups like Mumford and Sons and Lumineers. 

I couldn’t stand that “Hey-Ho” bullshit, and not just because those songs so quickly became synonymous with Subaru commercials and the overall “hipster” movement of the 2010s, but because of how well Band of Horses perfected the same formula just years before. After all, why would you listen to a watered-down approximation when you had the real thing right there? 

There’s an underlying earnestness to those first two Band of Horses albums that makes them feel like something more than just standard “alt-country” fare. Sure they jangled, had some twang, and were known to use a banjo here and there, but that by no means should put them on the same playlists as groups like Of Monsters and Men. And no slight to any of those bands, if you like em, you like em, but I simply object to the fact that Band of Horses often gets unfairly lumped into the same category retroactively. 

In the time since their newest single, “Crutch,” I’ve found myself revising the Band of Horses Discography. I’ve found a renewed love for the grungy Why Are You OK, I’ve reveled in the warm shores of Cease To Begin, but most of all, I’ve found myself gravitating towards the band’s debut album Everything All The Time. 

The group’s first LP is a modest ten-track collection of songs released on Sub Pop Records in 2006. This was the first and last album to feature three of the band’s founding members and saw the group recording new versions of five songs off their Tour EP from the year prior. To this day, Everything All The Time is a downright stunning debut. It suffers from a bit of “Mario 64 Syndrome” in that it came first and contains what’s far-and-away the band’s most popular song, but that doesn’t mean the deeper cuts are worthless, in fact, far from it. 

What’s most impressive about this album is how well it acts as an introduction to this band and their world. It isn’t front-loaded, and it isn’t over-produced; it’s just 36 minutes of beautiful, rustic, folk-flavored indie rock. 

“The First Song” kicks the record off with a beautiful sway and ascendant melody that warms the body and soul. The lyrics are Christmas-adjacent (a huge plus for someone like me) and counter this sense of seasonal wonder with a more profound melancholy that often comes part and parcel with the holidays. This leads directly into the snappy one-two-punch “Wicked Gil” and “Our Swords,” the former of which is a vibrant drum-led track and the latter of which possesses a bouncy bassline that is counterbalanced by violent imagery.

At a certain point, these first three songs all feel like an onramp to the main attraction of Side A: breakaway single “The Funeral.” As mentioned above, this track has been used in everything from skateboarding video games to the 2012 Rihanna vehicle Battleship. You’ve probably heard this song at least a dozen times without even seeking it out. To this day, it’s still the group’s biggest hit, racking up about 200 million more plays than their second-most-popular song on Spotify. “The Funeral” may be a little tired, but does that make it any less impactful? Absolutely not. The song begins with a downright iconic guitar riff and solitary vocal delivery. It then beautifully layers elements on until the entire thing becomes a pressure cooker of remorse and sorrow. The track explodes into an outpouring of catharsis with the first chorus as the full band joins in, masterfully turning the intensity up and down as the song calls for it. It’s undoubtedly the band’s masterpiece; my only dig against this song is that it’s most people’s sole experience with the band. “The Funeral” is a certified hit; it’s Band of Horses’ “Fade Into You,” the exact kind of big alt-pop crossover that groups like this needs to achieve success and name recognition early on.

After the grandiose pinnacle that is “The Funeral,” the group winds down the first half of the record with “Part One,” and here is where Everything All The Time gets truly fascinating to me. “Part One” is a gorgeous and aching love song featuring velveteen guitar and some of the most gentle drumming on the entire record. It’s precious, confessional, and reserved, especially coming in the wake of a big swing like “The Funeral.”

Flip the record over, and you’re immediately greeted with a stomping barnburner in “The Great Salt Lake,” an ode to the largest inland body of saltwater in the Western Hemisphere. This leads to a downright hootenanny on “Weed Party,” a bluegrass banger that’s about exactly what you would expect from the song title. Kicking off with a titular declaration of “Weed party!” followed by a hearty “YEE-HAW,” it’s hard not to instantly absorb the infectious enthusiasm of what could easily be the album’s most high-energy cut.

The final three tracks are something of a depressive comedown that’s guaranteed to follow in the wake of staying up late the night before spending all your endorphins having a good ol’ fashioned barn hang with all your buddies. While this run of songs is a little slower and sadder, I love it for the pensive contrast that it provides to everything that came before.

Specifically, “I Go To The Barn Because I Like The” is one of my favorite songs on the record, second only to “The Funeral” or “The First Song,” depending on the day. This cut begins with the same reserved acoustic guitar found in “Part One” and finds lead singer Ben Bridwell accompanied by whisper-quiet harmonies courtesy of guitarist Mat Brooke. As the narrator brokenheartedly explains, “Well I'd like to think I'm the mess you'd wear with pride” the track begins to sprawl outward with a gorgeous pedal steel twang by the second verse. The narrator eventually concedes “you were right” over a bed of lonesome hums. The drums, bass, and second guitar all jump in for the hook where single words and phrases are uttered with patience, weaving together a story of forgiveness and redemption.

Outside
By your doorstep
In a worn out
Suit and tie
I'll wait
For you to come down
Where you'll find me
Where we'll shine

It should be clear now that I love this song quite a bit. “I Go To The Barn Because I Like The” really feels like it’s a hidden gem tucked away in the back half of the tracklist, much like McMenamins Rock Creek Taven. In fact, this song has always strongly evoked that sense of place in my head whenever I listen to it. The fact that it’s so beautifully written and deploys one of my favorite instruments of all time is just a bonus.

From here, the band crafts a five-minute banjo-led slow build in “Monsters” and wraps things up with a minimalist campfire tune on “St. Augustine.” Just like that, a mere 36 minutes and seven seconds later, you find yourself on the other side of Everything All The Time. You’ve journeyed from the estranged holiday season of “The First Song,” been swept up in grief on “The Funeral,” eased your mind with the natural wonder of “The Great Salt Lake,” and gotten stoned in the countryside with “Weed Party.” You hit the comedown and found some sense of inner peace with the final three tracks and now find yourself rolling back to civilization… at least until you start it all over again from the top.

A Message to The Haters: Raven, The Acid Bath Princess of the Darkness on Being Emo, Growing Up Online, and What To Do When Nobody Gets the Joke

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Originally published in Emo Trash, March 2021 

We have a New Years’ Eve tradition on the internet. Every December- sometimes in May, or August, or October, any time we need a laugh- a 5-second clip makes its way around social media. It’s a video of two girls wishing us a happy new year, decked out in period-appropriate ‘00s goth makeup and lamenting about how much they just don’t care about the holiday.

It’s 2008, almost 2009, and they announce it with little enthusiasm. In the short clip that’s usually shared, there’s a moment of doubt about just how much of the video is a joke. After all, we were like that once, adamant that wearing liquid black eyeliner on our lower lash lines was a good idea and that Tim Burton’s art was just really really cool, okay? 

The video, A Shout Out From Tara and Raven, is a parody that feels close to home. After making it clear that 2009 means nothing to them, they go on to address their “haters”, list off their likes (being goth, Edward Cullen, MCR and AFI) and dislikes (preps, jocks, and of course- haters), to wish us a “crappy new year” as MCR’s “Disenchanted” plays in the background. They remind us that they are Raven, the Acid Bath Princess of The Darkness, and Tara, before signing off. 

It’s the third upload on their channel, xXblo0dyxkissxX, and would have remained lost to the internet had it not gone viral in recent years (It’s worth mentioning that the video currently has 66k likes and 6k dislikes.) Before the two went out with an unintentional bang, they uploaded more videos, including one titled A Message To The Haters, where the two of them blink silently at the camera for four minutes while Ashley Tisdale’s cover of “Never Gonna Give You Up” plays on a loop. 

Behind xXblo0dyxkissxX was a girl named Sarah, who recently admitted to making the videos with her sister as a joke. Now 31 and a professional dominatrix, she’s spent the new year dealing with surprisingly positive reactions to a misunderstood YouTube persona, and figuring out what to do next. Her Twitter bio proudly reads “Fake emo turned adult emo;” we talked about how she ended up there.

How did you get into emo music when you were younger, and how or why did you revisit it as an adult? I feel like a lot of people have really funny stories about the moment they were like, oh my god- this music is scary, but I'm into it. 
When I was emo as a kid I never wanted to call myself emo- I was goth. At the time, this was around 2002, nobody really wanted to be “emo”, I guess. Goths were tough and emos were whiny and angsty and stuff, and I was angsty. I lived in a small town in east Texas, and I think that if I were open about, you know, being emo, people would have just called me goth anyway, there wasn’t that much difference in subcultures there. 

I did grow up in a home where my media was heavily censored, so I wasn’t really allowed to listen to my own music. If I wanted to listen to something, it had to be like, screened through my dad. One time, for example: Linkin Park was a somewhat safe band, for some reason, and one time my dad had printed out some of the lyrics, one of the lines was talking about “walking on eggshells” or something, and my dad sat me down and he was like, “Do you really feel like this?” and it sucked, it really sucked, because I wanted to listen to all of this stuff, and I couldn’t really do it. I was already this kid who, like, wasn’t allowed to watch pg-13 movies….it was very over-protective. I don’t really remember what got me started on the music, but I did have friends with more normal parents and a more normal access to music, and they would share things with me. 

I do remember that in 5th grade I went to this science based summer camp, one of the counselors wore a Dead Kennedys shirt. I didn’t know what Dead Kennedys were, but I just remember thinking, “holy shit, this guy is so fucking cool.” After that summer camp I did start wanting to explore a little more, explore that side of myself. I do know that because everything I ingested was so censored and so limited I didn’t have as wide of a range of exposure as I do now. There is a little part of it that makes it more exciting, in a way.

You get a chance to do it over again!
Yeah, yeah! So, how I got back into it: Tara is my sister. We made the videos to make fun of ourselves for our own emo phases. The videos were my idea, I convinced her to play along. After my emo phase from 12-14 I started getting more into punk. After I got into AFI, I started going back and listening to their older [heavier] albums, but to go from Sing the Sorrow to like, the Casualties and Rancid, especially when you’re fifteen...it’s embarrassing. You start to become a little embarrassed at what you used to be like. 

So, I wanted some sort of career in comedy, YouTube was new, I’d spent some time on 4Chan, I was familiar with trolling. I wanted to troll people, so I convinced Tara to create these characters that made fun of our former selves. At the time, even though we weren’t emo, we still had our fair share of mental health problems; I’ve been depressed and anxious for as long as I can remember. 

After Tara and I stopped filming together, we went off to college, we started doing these rock-outs in the car. We only go to see each other once a year, and it started out as a joke, like, remember those videos we used to make, wanna scream along to Good Charlotte together? So that started out as a joke, and it became one of those things that I started doing on my own as a form of comfort, just putting on the music and listening to it. 

I got started again through Good Charlotte’s first two albums. Those were like a security blanket for me, and I recognized that it was so weird that I was going back to something that I had once been so ashamed of. When I was 21, 22, I had this car that only had a cassette player, and I scoured Ebay until I found those Good Charlotte albums on cassette; I needed them SO badly. So I had my Good Charlotte cassettes mixed in with my Dead Kennedys, I had some Henry Rollins spoken word stuff...it was something I started listening to whenever I was anxious to calm myself down, and it was really comforting. 

That gave way to me exploring other things I liked at the time, and it gradually progressed into an acceptance of “emo.” I started jokingly referring to myself as an adult emo around 2016, and it wasn’t until 2018 that I started to embrace it. I guess the simplest way to explain it would be that I went through an emo phase, was super embarrassed about it, made fun of it, returned to cheesy pop-punk, and slowly grew into an adult emo. I think a lot of that just came with personal growth, just this personal acceptance that I am a very emotional person, and this is the music that I relate to. 

“Emo” used to be kind of an insult.
Oh, yeah!

It’s funny now, but we all took it super seriously back then! I was definitely emo in high school, but if anybody called me that, I’d get really offended. Kids used to get really hung up on social stereotyping, but you don’t really hear people using that language anymore. 
Yeah. 

I remember one time, this must have been 2007, my friend told me, “Robin, you’re skinny so you could be a prep, but you’re just too weird.” and I was like...what does that mean? I know you’ve said your emo phase was more when you were younger, did you notice or take part in any of that stuff, or were the rest of high school pretty normal for you socially? 
Oh, no. I was always the weird one, hands down. To give some examples: In third grade I didn’t have any friends to hang out with during recess, so I just hung out and talked with the teachers….I wanted to be a Herpetologist when I was a kid, I had a glow in the dark Albert Einstein shirt, I was bringing snakes to show and tell. I was never cool, I was never the one that people wanted to hang out with. I’d come to school on Monday and realize that like, all of the girls in class had a sleepover that weekend except for me. I just wasn’t cool, ever. I think that my emo phase, my goth phase was sort of an attempt at protecting myself- but even then, I was the first mall goth at my middle school, so I got made fun of for that. 

Even when I was out of my emo phase, I turned into a weird theater kid. I spent most of my time in high school just writing, writing sketches, writing stories, doing dumb funny shit with Tara, filming videos with my friends. I didn’t have a very normal teenage experience in that I didn’t date, I didn’t go to parties, I spent a lot of time just being creative and being weird and just enjoying all of it. There was a time in college where I fell into a group of nerdy friends, and they were all cooler than me, they dressed better than me, and I thought things would be different if I shopped at Express. So, I shopped at Express, and it didn’t change anything!

Do you think that you and your sister would have received a more positive response if you were making those videos today? TikTok is popular, we have more people, more young women doing front-facing camera comedy. 
Without a doubt, for so many reasons. I think that culturally, things have changed considerably. This also ties into a point about emo: Culturally, a lot of things have changed. I think that younger people are a lot more empathetic, young people are a lot more progressive. They know that you can’t make fun of someone for being gay, they know that you can’t make fun of someone for, you know, being autistic. There’s just so much more basic human decency there. 

Social media as a whole was still pretty new, and especially on YouTube, it was a lot easier to hide behind this separate account and you’d get away with it, but now, youtube is owned by Google, you use Google to sign into everything, it’s a lot harder to get away with that stuff, because your account is tied to so many things. With my generation anyway, we grew up with the internet but it wasn't always there, whereas younger generations grew up with the internet and social media always being there. They were all really new and really exciting when I was a teenager, but because they’ve grown up with these things, they’ve been taught that you don’t get to be a dick to people on the internet. 

Something that I’ve noticed, for example: Azer, a brief costar in our videos, uses they/them pronouns. In the comments section of Instagram or wherever, someone will say something about Azer and use the wrong pronouns, but someone else will reply to that comment and go “hey, just an FYI, they use they/them pronouns!” and then the other person is gonna reply and go “Shit, I didn't know, I’m so sorry!” We would not have done that on youtube in 2007. 

As a whole, mental health has become less taboo to talk about. If people aren’t comfortable talking to their friends in person about their anxiety or their depression or whatever, they can still talk about it online, and I think because people talk about it online more, it normalizes it; it’s okay to have feelings, it’s okay to be an emotional person. So, that brings me back to my point, about emo being cool again. 

Did your online presence extend elsewhere during that time, or was there more of a safe distance between you and others? Did you ever become close with anyone that way when you were younger? 
Yeah, totally. As a not very popular child, all of a sudden being able to meet people online, that was great. I made a friend on Xanga when I was fifteen, we’re still friends, we still talk to each other every now and then….I had multiple MySpaces, I was a pretty early Facebook user. “Raven” was my only real attempt at having a channel. 

Youtube was a lot different back then; you had your flash animations going around like Salad Fingers, you had people uploading their own little skits. Did you have any favorites, as someone making your own content? 
I remember YouTube in 2005, I discovered that there were old music videos there. I didn’t have cable growing up, my media was really censored. When I was fifteen or so I found music videos on there, and that was what really stuck out to me as being like, the most magical thing. There was a period of my life in 2005 where I would watch the music video for the Smashing Pumpkins song “Today,” every day before school. 

That’s a good start, that’s a good one. 
Yeah, yeah! I had like, the lyrics printed out and on my wall. I was talking to one of my friends about this, she was mentioning how YouTube was such a different place back then. The few sketches we could think of were all produced by men. A question she asked me was, “Who was the first woman you saw on youtube being genuinely funny?” We noticed that in those early days, if women were on youtube, they were being laughed at, not laughed with. 

Videos that went viral at the time, they were reinforcing that stereotype that women are emotional, and this is why it’s so funny. An example that we thought of was the Cara Cunningham “leave Britney alone” video. We realized that it got so much traction because here was a person being emotional, and also queer, and not being straight was a bigger thing then, too. So we talked a lot about how homophobia and misogyny led to “leave britney alone.” 

I was looking back through some of those comments, and I know you’ve probably talked about this a lot- but people were really concerned with you being “cringe”. It seems like most of the people who left nasty comments were also the ones who didn’t get the joke, and even then, they were weirdly angry about the idea of a couple of goth kids goofing off in front of the camera. What is so bad about being cringe? Is there anything else embarrassing you did as a teenager outside of youtube? 
I don’t consider my youtube channel embarrassing. I was doing it as a joke, I was doing it to troll people. I think the cringe comments came a little bit later. The initial comments we got were a lot more aggressive. Do I think things would be different today? Yes, I do. I think that some people really didn’t...there were definitely some people who got the joke. We got a number of comments from people who were like, oh my god, you guys are hilarious, this is comedy...The comments that I remember, though, before that, there were a lot that were unnecessarily violent. There were a ton of comments telling us to kill ourselves, that we should have been aborted, Azer was subjected to so much homophobia. I think that because we were young people- and I looked considerably younger than I was- there was also ageism coming into play. Kids aren’t really given an opportunity to be funny unless they’re being funny for other kids. 

I think a lot of that has changed, but back then, people saw those videos, I’ve got a natural intensity, so they assumed. I knew what to do and say to piss people off, and it worked! I was expecting comments more along the lines of, oh my god, ya’ll are posers, you call yourselves goth but you listen to Simple Plan. Instead, people saw young women...at the time, emo kids, alt kids, mall goths, they were everyone’s punchline. You combine all of these things, and it elicited something really vile and hateful from so many people. It was one of the reasons why Tara and I wanted to keep everything a secret for as long as possible. 

There’s a difference between “your jokes aren’t funny” and “oh my god, you are everything that’s wrong with society, go kill yourself you fat, ugly bitch,” and we were getting those comments every single day. What started out as something funny at first, over the course of ten to twelve years, if you’re exposed to that, it starts to become more personal. 

A large part of why we didn’t want to come forward was because we stopped reading the comments a long time ago. We didn’t pay attention because we didn’t want to see that shit again. I only came out in the first place because people had begun to link Raven to my dominatrix persona, Petra. Over the past few years, people would approach me and ask me if I was her, but because I made my character so much younger than I was, it was easy for me to deny it.

That’s got to be complicated, that makes sense. 
Yeah, so for the past twelve years or so, I was under the impression that we had created something that I personally thought was hilarious, but nobody thought was funny at all. Because the comments were so negative, I just assumed that if anyone linked the two, it would be like 2008 youtube all over again, that my work accounts would be spammed with all of this shit. Why would I allow any of that to permeate this persona that I’ve crafted for work- a persona that’s supposed to be this, like, all-powerful woman? 

I assumed that coming forward would be really bad for business. I was expecting to have to lock down social media until everything blew over. Towards the end of December 2020, there had been this sort of mystery surrounding Tara and Raven, this sort of internet manhunt trying to find out who we were. I was worried that if I didn’t out myself, that somebody would dox me in ways that were really damaging to me, but they wouldn’t have known what they were doing, because they were so caught up in that excitement and wanted to get that pat on the back. So, I came out as a preventative measure. I had no idea that I would be this well received, I had no idea that people liked the videos, that they thought I was funny. 

For the past twelve years I thought I’d created something that I thought was really funny, but nobody else thought was funny, and they hated it so much that they thought I should kill myself because of it! To be met with all of this positivity and interest and be told that people have liked my videos for years and they’ve thought I was funny for years, that’s such a weird mindfuck.

I think what’s so endearing- I hadn’t seen the other videos before, what always got me about the New Years’ video- you almost can’t tell if it’s a joke or not, and I’ve always enjoyed it because we were like that. We were all like that at one point, and then we started to get embarrassed. I’m glad they’re still up, they’re nice to look back on.
That’s really good to hear, I never thought that people found them so relatable. It’s been really cool to hear stuff about this, and to hear that people really related to my characters who were based on me, and who I used to be. It’s comforting.

In a lot of those videos you two address those people in character when you refer to “the haters.” Did it help the two of you navigate it, was it helpful to laugh at it, or was it just part of the script? 
Truthfully, we were doing it because I was trying to incite some sort of flame war. I was trying to troll these people back! I wanted the videos to go viral, I even put them on 4Chan and I was like, “Hey, get a load of these guys, how embarrassing! Look at these nerds, trying to pretend that they’re goth!” The people who we addressed [in the videos] were real people. This was before the comments started to leave the damage that they did, I’d see them and I’d go “Tara, we gotta reply, we gotta make them even more mad, this is what we gotta say…” 

One of my favorites is the rickroll video, you really can’t get more 2008 than that. Whose idea was it to make that video?
4Chan was very upset about the Ashley Tisdale cover. 4Chan was super pissed about the Ashley Tisdale cover. I went to Tara and I said, “Look, this is a big deal on the internet right now, we gotta do it, just trust me,” and so we did. I definitely don’t understand how people saw that and still thought our videos were real. 

What’s a trend from the 2000s that you love and would want to come back? 
This is what I want: I want the original hot topic back. I want Hot Topic to be scary again, I want the old font, I want it to look like a cave when you enter, the old Hot Topic smell. I want parents to still be afraid of Hot Topic. Did you ever write on your jeans in Sharpie, or was that just me?

I wrote on my shoes in Sharpie a lot. 
I wrote on my shoes and my jeans in sharpie, but- truthfully, I want the old Hot Topic back. 

True or false: Have you ever written fan fiction?
No, I have never written fan fiction. 

Damn. 
That was something that I just...I never did. 

You know, that’s probably...that’s good. Good for you. 

You can keep this one PG-13, but: What’s the funniest or strangest thing someone has said to you within the context of work?
I’m so desensitized to my job that I forget that a lot of things are shocking to people. With the video I made at the beginning of the month, I just ended it with “Yeah, I’m a professional dominatrix” because they’d flooded my work accounts already, it was old news. I forgot that it’s a very exciting thing to a lot of people. I got so many comments after releasing that like, “What the fuck did she just say in the last second of the video?!” I thought they were excited about the old footage I was going to release, but they were really excited about my work….I forget that things that are funny to me are super shocking to other people. 

Someone I have an arrangement with, he’s this punk dude, and I know that punks and people who are really into music are very proud of their tastes in music, they’re very proud of the fact that they have a good taste in music, and I know these things because I am one of those people. I once wrote in candle wax, “I <3 KID ROCK” on his back. It took up his whole back, and I took a bunch of pictures, and he died, it was so fucking funny. He was like, “How could you?!” 

See, that’s funny! That sort of leads into my next question: Do you think there’s any connection between who you were as a young person making those videos and the work you do now, in terms of creativity and being able to laugh at yourself? 
Yes and no. There are similarities, that mostly stem from having a psychological understanding of people, and being able to improvise. The New Years’ Eve video was probably the one that was the least improvised. For the most part, things were improvised, and we knew we could do really ridiculous shit and not break character. 

Because of the trolling, there was the psychology of knowing how to get under people’s skin. With being a dominatrix, for example: everything is so individualized, you have to be good at honing in on those things really quickly, you have to get inside their head. Like with trolling people, you have to pick up really quickly on where they’re coming from, and even if you think you know, you might not actually know. You just have to have that awareness of other people and where other people’s thoughts come from. There’s definitely some crossover between the two personas. I definitely love laughing at people and cracking dumb jokes. Using comedy to mindfuck people is great. 

You mentioned on Instagram that you want to do more comedy writing. What are some of your ideas? Do you want to make more videos, or try something different? Do you even know? 
I really don’t know at this point, because again, this whole reception has been so unexpected. I came out two weeks ago, and I really wasn’t expecting any of this at all! I was going into it with the expectation of things going poorly, I would retreat into my online hermit cave and wait for it to blow over. For so long, I’ve subconsciously not given myself permission to explore these interests. The YouTube comments definitely had a lot to do with it, but as I got older, the stigma that came with being a sex worker got in the way. 

I signed up for improv classes in 2016 and dropped out because all of these questions came up. what happens if someone recognizes me....it raised all of these weird questions that I didn’t have an answer for. People still lose their jobs for this stuff, you know? “It doesn’t matter how funny I am because I’m not presentable.” I never gave myself permission, but now I’m realizing that maybe I can make this work. 

All of that has been very liberating, and I’m very privileged that I can say that, because most of the time, that is not the case for sex workers. People would ask me what I would do instead, and now all of a sudden I’m getting permission from all of these people that I can do that now. I want to try everything! I’ve got so many things that I want to explore now. 

I feel like nowadays people are more receptive to the weird. Eric Andre gets naked every single time he performs. He gets naked, and that’s his thing, that’s what he does. 
Yeah! Yeah, and that’s really exciting. 

Do you think that, between navigating youtube and your work, is there sort of a spot for girls to be weird online? Are there any positives at all? 
Yeah, and like I said earlier, there will always be people who are going to be dicks. I’m very protective of young people, it does bother me that young women, young people period can still be subjected to so much cruelty. I think that things are changing- even if there is still that cruelty, women and nonbinary, queer folks, people who aren’t straight, white cis males, will be subjected to much more scrutiny online, but I think that things have changed a lot since 2007, and that there is more of a place for people to be weird. 

At 27 years old, Robin Green is still emo, wants to know if her Meez are doing okay, and may or may not have pictures of Gerard Way saved on her phone. You can find her in Bellingham, Washington, and on Twitter at robinelizabth.