Nagasaki Swim – The Weight Pt. 2 | Single Review

I don’t know about you guys, but things have been pretty rough lately. Between fascist infringements on bodily autonomy, frightening escalations of rightwing dog whistles, and apocalyptic concerns for the world at large, it’s been hard for me to do much beyond just continuing to exist. It’s been nearly impossible to motivate myself at work, and even harder to motivate myself here on the blog. On top of all this, I caught COVID back in April, so that was a fun little reminder of my mortality. 

Over the past year, I’ve tried hard to recognize when I need to take a break. Last year I set a goal of publishing at least one article here every week (and I did it!), but recently I’ve been reminding myself that it’s okay to walk away from things for a little bit. That means I don’t force myself to publish anything just for the sake of fresh “content” because nobody wants to read that, and I don’t want to write that. I love sharing the music that I love with the world, but taking the time to sit down and articulate why I adore a piece of music has been a surprisingly hard thing for me recently. 

This has been a long preamble, but hey, ‘words on music and life,’ right? That’s what ya signed up for when you clicked on this. I write all this as a way to flush out my thoughts but also to say that “The Weight Pt. 2” by Nagasaki Swim is the first piece of music I’ve heard in months that’s inspired me to break out a fresh Google Doc and actually start writing. That alone should speak volumes about this song.

The track is a prelude to the Neverlandish folk group’s upcoming sophomore effort Everything Grows and acts as a direct sequel to the mid-album cut from last year’s The Mirror. Back when it was released, I described the band’s debut as “acoustic-led bedroom rock that still manages to sound huge.” Based on what’s on display with “The Weight Pt. 2,” the group has only refined that sound further, expertly walking the line between sweeping and intimate.

“The Weight Pt. 2” slowly wades the listener in with a single acoustic guitar which gradually builds outward with bass, drums, and a gorgeous string section. After establishing this solemn sway, lead singer Jasper Boogaard enters with a nasally delivery that evokes the remorseful twang of recent Greet Death singles.

After a verse about wasting days nudging thoughts around, the instrumental pairs down to just the strings before lifting off into a beautiful, meditative passage. Between the funeral scenes depicted and the anguishing morbid thoughts articulated, the feeling of death hangs heavy over the atmosphere of the song. 

The instrumental dies out again about four minutes in for (what feels like) the end, only for the strings to swell back up and carry us out with a soaring outro that affords the listener just enough time to properly absorb the heft of the topic. 

“The Weight Pt. 2” is not a fun or light-hearted listen, but it is cathartic and freeing in its own way. God knows we’ve all felt that weight of death and dread recently, and sometimes it’s comforting to seek refuge in a song that fully acknowledges the presence of those extremes. It’s not a distraction; it’s an affirmation that things are fucked up and hard. If you’ve been feeling the weight lately, Nagasaki Swim is right there with you. 

All Hail Oso Oso: The King of Bridges

I think I spent the first 25 years of my life not knowing what a bridge is. This is particularly embarrassing because I spent three of those years running a music blog. Obviously I had heard of bridges; I knew vaguely what a chorus and a verse were (the chorus was the repetitive singy part, the verse was the “story” part), but “bridge” was just one step deeper into music theory than I was able to comprehend. Turns out the bridge is the part at the end of the song where the instrumental changed and the artist essentially sings a new verse that doesn’t fit into the format of what came before. Oftentimes the bridge will throw to one more chorus before the end of the song and acts as a way for the artist to keep the track interesting while still giving you that sweet, catchy singalong part one last time. 

That’s a pretty elementary explanation, but song structure is something that I didn’t even begin to comprehend until a quarter through my life, so I guess you get what you pay for. I open with this embarrassing anecdote not to flex my middle-school-choir-level of music theory knowledge but to acknowledge that music writing often has a bad tendency to throw around lots of technical terms assuming its reader knows what’s up. Sure, sometimes a concept is widespread enough that an explanation isn’t needed, and other times you can pick things up via context clues, but I’m specifically explaining the idea of a bridge upfront because I’d like to talk about one of the best bridge writers in the game: Oso Oso.

Jade Lilitri has been an entity within the emo music scene for over a decade at this point. Initially making a name for himself as the guitarist and front person for the cult pop-punk act State Lines back in the early 2010s, Jade’s musical ideas quickly spilled out into a solo project by 2014. Initially named osoosooso, this act soon bloomed from a side project to a fully-fledged band with the release of Real Stories of True People Who Kind of Looked Like Monsters in 2015. Now bearing a subtle yet confusing name change to “Oso Oso” along with more produced sound, Real Stories put Lilitri on the emo map, instantly solidifying himself as a standalone force within the scene with songs like “Track 1, Side A” and “This Must Be My Exit.” This popularity only grew with the release of the yunahon mixtape in 2017 and basking in the glow in 2019, both of which brought increasingly impressive tours and critical acclaim.

Each Oso Oso release features a barebones lineup with Lilitri on vocals, guitars, and bass, while Aaron Masih handles the drums. The touring musicians supporting Oso Oso have always been a rotating cast of friends and collaborators, but the project has primarily been a one-man operation helmed by Jade himself. It’s his band, his ideas, his vision, and his creativity that has led to a project with one of the most uniquely defined sounds in the entirety of the emo scene. 

I’ll admit I got to Oso Oso late… like really late. I don’t know why I feel like I need to preface that when discussing my history with a band, but in this case, I feel it provides important context. Sometime in August of 2018, my life was on the verge of massive change. I was about to move from Portland, Oregon, to Detroit, Michigan, for a new job. I was not only moving away from home for the first time in earnest, but I was also moving all the way across the damn country to a state I’d never even set foot in. I was in a weird liminal space and feeling extra sentimental, to say the least. I was experiencing everyday life from a hyper-sentimental vantage point, thinking about how long I was about to go without seeing my family or petting my childhood dog. Every meal I ate and street I walked down felt like a bittersweet reminder that it might be the last time I experienced those things in months or even years. I was living from the perspective of someone whose life was about to be drastically different in a matter of weeks. That’s both a scary and exciting thing to have looming over your head.

Amongst all this weird in-my-feelings self-reflection, I was having an emo renaissance spurred by Gulfer’s Dog Bless and Mom Jeans’ Puppy Love. Those albums brought me back to the mathy emo shit of my high school and college years like Minus The Bear, Modern Baseball, and Into It. Over It. At this point, it was still summer, and the weather was beautiful in Oregon, if not waning just a little bit to the fall chill. I distinctly remember an evening mid-august doing dishes by myself after one of the last homecooked meals I would enjoy that year. I was scrubbing a pot free of the seasonal zest left behind from one of my Mom's world-famous Mexican dishes. Behind me, my MacBook Air sat on our kitchen island, Spotify pouring from the speakers. I had probably just finished listening to an album from some Counter Intuitive band, and Spotify had switched over to the usual auto-generated suspects of mildly-popular emo rock bands. 

I shuffled from Mom Jeans to Retirement Party to Pet Symmetry at the whim of the algorithm. I didn’t hate it, but my hands were wet and soapy, so the queue was out of my control. Then it happened; I heard the energetic opening chords of “gb/ol h/nf” and was utterly transfixed. 

I’d been listening to emo music for years at that point, yet I had never heard anything quite like this song before. I loved the laid-back, surfy tone, the borderline-stake punk tempo, the crisp emo-flavored guitars, and the even-keel singing. I enjoyed putting the puzzle together of what the song title stood for, and on top of all that, I was absolutely transfixed by the album cover of a dude wearing a shark head costume skateboarding through what looked like a restaurant kitchen or the underside of a music venue. Maybe I was just in a particularly-receptive mood, but the song struck a chord within seconds and made a case for itself over the remainder of its four and a half minute running time.

What really sealed the deal came midway through the song at two minutes and 33 seconds, where the instrumental bottoms out to just guitar for a moment as Jade repeats, “I love it, yes I do… oh no, I think I love them more.” Eventually, the bass and drums join in, gradually picking up the pace as the lyrics continue, “and I love you yes I do… uh no, no I’m not really sure.” Just as Jake croons the word ‘sure’ in about as high as his voice ever goes, the instrumental drops out, making way for a jagged barrage of emo instrumentation that’s synchronized but just a little too off-tempo to dance to. As this unpredictable section of the song jostles the listener around, it breaks just long enough for Jade to get out one more half-thought as he trails off with “don’t know…” before throwing back to the whiplash-inducing riffage.

This seemed like a fitting (if not slightly jarring) way to end the song, but much to my surprise, the track was only halfway over. After this skillful bout of jazzy emo instrumentation, the instrumental clears out once again, this time letting everything breathe and giving enough space for Jade to appear with his guitar and continue the story. Almost as if a cable was knocked loose during a violent mosh, the song continues with Jade strumming what sounds to be an unplugged electric guitar. As he brushes his pick over the chords, he sings, 

Well, that rain cloud in your head
(it’s still raining)
The monkey on your back
(he’s still hanging)
And I’m stuck here, a waste, complaining to you
(always complaining)

Then, as if by some miracle, the power has been restored, the bass and drums re-emerge, joining the guitar in this new laid-back instrumental. Here’s where the song’s title is revealed as Jade sings, “so goodbye old love, hello new friend. This is where it ends and then begins again.” Soon the track incorrigibly picks back up steam once again, expending all its remaining energy on a bouncy outro and cleanly-executed guitar solo. 

This mid-song fake out was a beautiful surprise, and unlike anything I was listening to at the time, especially in the emo space. I discovered “gb/ol h/nf” was a single with an accompanying song titled “subside,” which I immediately queued up, and I quickly grew just as infatuated with. While it was slightly less energetic and didn’t have a crazy fake-out ending, “subside” felt like a more downtrodden follow-up to its accompanying A-side. It was the emotional chaser to the youthful energy that preceded it. It was the mid-set catch-your-breath-moment before the band launched into another banger. The crazy part was, as stylistically different as these two tracks were, “subside” still bore a precise emo instrumental and mesmerizing melody wrapped inside of its deeply-feeling chorus. Where had Oso Oso been all my life?

Best bridges in the game. pic.twitter.com/Zr630wqEDo

— taylor (@GeorgeTaylorG) November 29, 2021

I spent the remainder of that year and the next slowly absorbing the rest of the band’s oeuvre, focusing primarily on the yunahon mixtape with a chaser of gb/ol h/nf / subside for good measure. This eventually spread to the band’s debut and culminated in fully appreciating the rollout of basking in the glow, which worked its way up to #4 on my 2019 Album of the Year list. What I discovered over the course of my yearlong flirtation with Oso Oso’s impeccable discography is that Jade Lilitri has a knack for writing incredible, engaging, and creative bridges. 

So often, bridges can feel like an extra idea thrown in because it didn’t fit anywhere else on the album or, worse, a stopgap meant to lazily withhold one more chorus from you for just a few moments longer. In Oso Oso songs, the bridges feel necessary and reveal an additional layer of consideration to the core musical idea. The songs themselves are already catchy and engaging enough on their own, but the bridges that Jade writes often feel like an essential idea that’s both self-contained and fits within the world of the song.

Oso Oso songs are like ice cream. Sure, ice cream on its own is good, but you throw a great bridge in there, and it’s like getting a fully-loaded ice cream cone with all the fixings. It’s the difference between a good snack and a great dessert. The songs would work without them, but Jade’s bridges act as a cherry on top containing their own ideas, phrases, and instrumentals that all get stuck in your head just as much as the “core” song itself. It’s like a song on top of a fucking song. 

Outside of “gb/ol h/nf,” the next time I took note of Jade’s superior bridge writing was with “Great Big Beaches.” Anyone reading this that’s already an Oso Oso fan probably sees that song title and can immediately call to mind both the song’s melody and bridge. That is the other brilliant secret of Lilitri’s songwriting: he often saves the song’s title for the bridge. That means the bridges not only stand on their own, but they’re often the most catchy and memorable part of the song. Once you’ve listened enough, this also means that you spend the entire song waiting for that cathartic, catchy release that comes in the final minutes. 

In the case of “Great Big Beaches,” the track begins innocently enough with a handful of reverbed guitar strums, which lead to a cresting instrumental that rises and falls like ocean waves. The song builds and mounts until hitting its stride around the two-and-a-half-minute mark. As the guitars fall into this bouncy sway, multiple different vocal melodies soar over the top until everything clicks into place within the last 30 seconds where Jade busts out the song’s name over one of the most hard-hitting riffs on the album. It’s still bright and sunny and in line with what came before, but at a certain point, you know this instrumental offramp is coming, and you spend the first half of the song just looking forward to its arrival. 

These same qualities can also be found in “The Walk,” which starts out with a minimal drum beat that establishes the song’s marching band-like cadence. Things pick up halfway through as the guitars overpower this sensible drum beat. Much like “Great Big Beaches,” things die down right around the three-minute mark before launching into a series of peppy pop-punk power chords. Aside from making me want to single-handledly start a pit every time I hear this energetic burst, it’s also accompanied by a lyrical catharsis as Jade belts, “I misinterpreted everything you saaaaid.” It genuinely feels like there’s something here for everybody, and this last little passage is basically less than a minute.

Going even further back into Oso Oso’s discography, you can find even more examples of this impactful bridge writing. On LP1, you’ve got “Where You’ve Been Hiding” and “Josephine,” and even on Osoosooso there’s “Para ’effin dise, Baby!” In almost all of these instances, Jade reserves the punchiest, most energetic burst of energy for the song’s final minutes. It’s like a long-distance runner who can finally see the endpoint off and knows they don’t have to sustain their power for much longer. Jade lets every instrument loose at once and allows the songs to expend all of their remaining drive in one final push.

Oso Oso already has one of the best, most recognizable discographies in emo/diy/pop-punk/whatever you want to call it. Nobody is making songs that sound like this, blending clean guitar work, catchy choruses, impeccable melodies, and energetic pop-punk instrumentals. You throw bridges into consideration, and it feels totally non-hyperbolic to say that Jade Lilitri is one of the most indispensable songwriters working right now. All I can say is thank you, Oso Oso, for teaching me not just what a bridge is but what a great bridge can be. 

Prince Daddy & The Hyena – Self-Titled | Album Review

Since 2018 Prince Daddy & The Hyena has been a massively influential band in my life. I remember hearing “I Wish I Could ctrl+alt+del My Life” come on the playlist at my café job and RUN-ning to the office to see who was singing it. “Prince Daddy & The Hyena,” I said to myself. “That’s a weird name, I sure hope I don’t form some kind of intense, parasocially emotional connection to this band that lasts for years, maybe even the rest of my life.”

But I did.

I’ve learned a lot of lessons both as a musician and writer from PDaddy. This band taught me it’s okay to make incredibly specific (potentially impenetrable) references to the movies and tv shows you relate all your feelings to. They helped me affirm that guitar rock is still awesome, and perhaps most importantly, they taught me not to be afraid to indulge in oversharing my feelings and mistakes with anyone who might be willing to listen. So really you only have them to thank for this extra-long intro.

The moment that crystallized the pandemic as reality for me came on March 13th, 2020. My partner and I were sitting in the cafeteria of Halifax’s Queen Elizabeth II hospital, waiting for my mom to get out of dental surgery, when the tweets came in. “Tour’s canceled,” I imagine they said. I don’t know, I’m not going to scroll back through two full years worth of tweets. I've already put off proofreading this article long enough. My partner was living in Montreal and we had plans to see Prince Daddy there and in Toronto and sing along to *every* word from Cosmic Thrill Seekers, which was the style at the time. We had the tickets. My flight was booked. There was so much uncertainty back then, and rather than cancel my flight and risk not seeing her again until god knows when I kept my ticket and spent three months in an experimental cohabitation that never would have happened without PDaddy. Cosmic Thrill Seekers being one of my top 5 all-time favourite albums to run to meant they carried me through a lot of days during that time, and I’m so grateful for that. It’s still one of my favourite memories of the pandemic?

And while that relationship eventually ended, Prince Daddy & The Hyena persists.

I was so nervous in the weeks before Cosmic Thrill Seekers was released. How could it possibly live up to the perfection of PDaddy’s first LP, I Thought You Didn’t Even Like Leaving. Considering the space CTS takes up in my heart, it feels silly now to have ever felt that way. So I’m not sure why I did it again in the lead up to this brand new, self-titled LP. Maybe I keep my hopes low to avoid being let down. Maybe I just tend to anticipate the worst in everything.

But hey, I learned it from the best.

Prince Daddy & The Hyena (the album) is a perfect representation of everything Prince Daddy & The Hyena (the band) have spent the past six years building on. For how honest and raw lyricist Kory Gregory has been since day one, he always finds new ways of removing barriers with each release. CTS has less of the “keep the world at arm's length” snarky humor that appears so often throughout Leaving, and with this self-titled, he allows us to hear his actual singing voice more regularly. It’s a subtle softening of boundaries across a body of work that’s incredibly impressive.

PDaddy has always been a band with firm control over their vast dynamic range, and here they’ve honed it to a sharp edge. While tracks like “A Random Exercise in Impernance,” “Shoelaces,” and “Keep up That Talk” smother you with a familiar frantic energy, moments such as “Something Special” and “Discount Assisted Living” are welcome opportunities to breathe. They’ll also break your fucking heart.

The highlight track, for me, has to be “Hollow As You Figured.” Opening quietly with an unsettling guitar riff that sets the stage for one of Gregory’s deeper explorations of the dark places that isolation can bring us to—eventually combusting into the heaviest riffs of the album and possibly PDaddy’s catalogue.

As a 30-something Canadian, it’s hard not to compare it to Sum41’s third album Chuck and the more mature themes and musical style the band explored within. I won’t, but just know that if I did, it would be with all the love in my heart.

Probably the most impressive feat of the album is “Black Mold.” The message I sent to my band’s group chat upon opening my advance SoundCloud streaming link was, “new prince daddy has a fucking nine-minute song on it.” I know what you’re thinking, and yes, while I didn’t let anybody hear the album before it came out, I did brag to two of my closest friends that I would get to listen to it early because I am a “professional.” As the emotional climax of the record, we have our hands held as we’re taken on a tour of various traumas from the singer’s past, a familiar recurring theme for longtime listeners. What blows me away is that there are no wasted moments in this song. Nine minutes is a LONG time, but it never feels like that here. It’s an extension of PDaddy’s ability to weave multiple pieces together as seen on Leaving and CTS, and a testament to their more operatic tendencies.

Prince Daddy & The Hyena the band proved my doubts about Prince Daddy & The Hyena the album wrong just like they did with Cosmic Thrill Seekers: You can improve on perfection.

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Cailen Alcorn Pygott is a writer, musician, and general sadsack from Halifax, Nova Scotia. He’ll tell you even more about his anxieties on his band No, It’s Fine.’s album I Promise. Tell him how brave you think that is on Twitter @noitsfinereally and on Instagram @_no_its_fine_.

His top five albums to run to of all time are:

1. Mom Jeans - Sweet Tooth

2. Gregory Pepper And His Problems - I Know Now Why You Cry 

3. Prince Daddy & The Hyena - Cosmic Thrill Seekers

4. Bowling For Soup - The Hangover You Didn’t Deserve 

5. Charly Bliss - Guppy

Honorable mention: Dollar Signs - This Will Haunt Me

The Merrier – Cyclical | EP Review

Remember when the internet was fun? Remember multi-colored clamshell MacBooks and AIM away messages? Remember agonizing over your Top 8 and risking a computer virus just to download a sketchy file named “nine_inch_nails-HURT-014.mp3” for your morning bus ride? Well, The Merrier remembers, and throughout Cyclical, the hyper-collaborative bedroom pop project born of Jake Stephens aims to recapture that feeling of boundless early internet wonder… or at least as much of it as can be salvaged in the toxic, post-apocalyptic, ad-riddled landscape of 2022.

This isn’t some Vaporwave-esque adoption of internet aesthetics for their own sake, but rather a project that couldn’t have existed without the collaborative spirit of the internet. While most of the songs here possess a baseline dreamo soundscape, the concept behind this project turns it into something more compelling than the sum of its parts as Stephens invites a host of different artists in to collaborate on each song. This process results in a collection of tracks with vastly different sounds and ideas that are unconcerned with genre or any larger album-wide statement. It’s like if Gorillaz were DIY… and good.

Listening to this EP feels like those now-ironic book covers showing a super cool 90s teen riding a keyboard as a metaphor for surfing the internet. Guest vocalists materialize and float by like web pages from a bygone era, each inviting the listener into their respective narrator’s rich inner world.

Cyclical begins with “BMO,” a song inspired by the Adventure Time character boasting a lovely little synth line that sounds like it was ripped straight out of a long-lost 80s workout tape. Propelled forward by this instrumental, Talor Smith of Biitchseat lends their vocals to the track, giving the listener a relatable perspective that wouldn’t have sounded out of place on last year’s I’ll become kind. After an instrumental dropout followed by a swirl of dreamy “ooohs,” the track seamlessly transitions to a verse from the Japanese lo-fi indie-pop band BLUEVALLEY, which adds a unique flavor to the song without sounding incongruous. In the final minute, these two vocal features stack on top of each other, resulting in a striking contrast of sounds that could have only been brought together under the Merrier moniker. 

From here, the release winds from the catchy and biblical “Cathedral” to planetary astral projections of love on “Venus” for an ever-shifting scope that expertly utilizes its cast of guest appearances. Sandwiched between these songs is “Gold,” which works the EP’s title into a cute turn of phrase over a bright and sunny instrumental that, ironically, would have fit in perfectly over the end credits of Adventure Time. Just as you wonder where Cyclical will go next, Merrier throws “Vaminos” at you for a vibrant rap song whose verses from Ponz The Angel and Masakiio evoke the carefree joy of 2016-era Lil Uzi Vert.

After the metaphorical (and literal) high of “Vaminos,” Cyclical wraps on the punctual and groovy “Scenery,” featuring guest vocals from Ohio-based multi-instrumentalist Superdestroyer. Despite its shorter running time and peppier pace, the final minute of this song switches over to a spaced-out rainy day instrumental as Merrier allows Superdestroyer to croon the EP’s last lines.

I hope that you know
I would do anything
To make sure that you're happy
Because you make me happy
I hope that I make you happy
I hope that I make you happy
I hope that I make you happy

Maybe it’s just due to how hypnotic this repetition is, but the line “I hope that I make you happy” feels like the closest thing this EP has to a thesis, given its diverse spread of perspectives and sounds. Cyclical is a collection of songs that inherently cannot have an overarching message, but this final refrain feels like a perfect note to send the listener off on. After all, if we don’t have happiness, music, and each other, what else is there?

Cyclical represents an often-unfulfilled promise of the internet; that we would be able to connect with strangers who share our interests and artistic visions, collaborate with them, and create something special together. With Stephens as the creative ringleader, Cyclical is a diverse and exhilarating collection of songs representing pure, creative collaboration. Even upon repeat listens, this EP will keep you wondering what could possibly be coming next and always manages to leave you amazed at the result.

The Best of Q1 2022

We’re officially a fourth of the way through 2022 (or at the end of “Q1,” as those in the ~industry~ call it), and we’ve been blessed with an absolute glut of incredible new music. In lieu of the monthly roundups we did throughout 2021, I’ve been keeping an ongoing thread of my favorite releases over on Twitter which has helped me keep up on the neverending supply of new music. Now that we’ve crossed this natural beat a quarter of the way through the year, I figured what better time than now to sit down and take stock of my favorite albums released thus far? Here are ten outstanding records from the first few months of 2022 that have already managed to leave an impression on me despite our relatively short time together. 

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Anxious - Little Green House

Run For Cover Records

It’s easy to listen to Anxious and compare them to Title Fight. Ever since the Pennsylvanian rock group unceremoniously dissolved in 2015, people have always been searching for the “next Title Fight.” While that comparison is ultimately meant as a compliment, Little Green House feels like so much more than superficial worship of a bygone era. If anything, I find myself comparing this band to Adventures, a short-lived yet highly-influential pop-punk side project with just the occasional tinge of hardcore. 

Little Green House opens with a flat-out ripper in “Your One Way Street,” a song that kicks off with a killer drum fill and charges forth with a muscular chord progression. The vocals vault from a heartfelt croon to a full-throated scream, eventually falling into a beautiful harmony for the chorus. It’s a two-minute sample platter of everything the band has to offer, wrapped in immaculate production and a self-assured presentation. The hits keep coming with the spring-flavored “In April” and the poppy “Growing Up Song.” Side A closer “Wayne” is a mid-album pit-stop before the raging “Speechless” drops the listener back into the full-throttle embrace. Choices like this lead to the album’s peaks and valleys feeling very well-placed, all of which resolve with a gentle landing on the closing track, “You When You’re Gone.” Little Green House is a fantastic debut that’s clean, catchy, and feels as if it came straight out of the golden age of Run For Cover. 

Band of Horses - Things Are Great

BMG

Pitched as a return to form, Things Are Great not only evokes the folksy indie rock of the first two Band of Horses albums but also stands on its own as a pleasant, laid-back excursion for the modern age. It’s the musical equivalent of a soft reboot where you don’t need to concern yourself with the official canon, studio rights, or any other needless behind-the-scenes details. All that matters is the collection of ten songs that sit before you and how much they rule. 

Back in November, I lamented how often Band of Horses gets lumped in with terribly-aged “Hey Ho” Lumineers-type music while also arguing the deeper virtues of Everything All The Time. Maybe it's just because that deep dive is still fresh, but I can see multiple obvious parallels between the band’s first album and their latest. You’ve got a few free-wheeling singles in “Crutch,” “Lights,” and “In Need of Repair” that coexist beautifully alongside slightly more heady stuff like “Aftermath” and lackadaisical porchside kickbacks like “In The Hard Times.” Things Are Great is everything I could want from a Band of Horses record, and it feels like this release could genuinely stand shoulder-to-shoulder with the group’s first couple of LPs, even if it still feels like the newer younger brother.

Beach House - Once Twice Melody

Sub Pop Records

Look, do I really have to sell you on a new Bach House record? I obviously love the band, but you know exactly what you’re getting into here. A 90-minute affair split into four parts released over four months, Once Twice Melody is the type of album you can throw on and fully submerge yourself in. From the anthemic title track to the trap-drum “Pink Funeral” and the hypnotic “Over and Over,” there’s more than enough to sink your teeth into here. Once Twice Melody is a gold and glossy wonderland perfect for late-night smoke sessions, mid-day make-outs, and everything in between.

Black Country, New Road - Ants From Up There

Ninja Tune

I can’t remember the last time I heard an album like Ants From Up There… In fact, I may have never heard an album like Ants From Up There. The second LP from Black Country, New Road was preceded– and nearly overshadowed –by the news that lead singer Isaac Wood was departing from the band mere days before the album’s release. While this certainly shifted how Ants From Up There was received and interpreted, I can’t think of a better note to end one’s career on than this collection of songs. This record is heartfelt and heartwrenching, finding a group of young creatives at various crossroads in their personal and professional lives. The lyrics are poetic and abstract yet hit upon extremely personal struggles. The songs bend and wind in unexpected ways, expanding and contracting under the weight of their own anguish and celebration. 

I wrote about this record (in my own incredibly abstract way) back when it was first released, and in the time since then, it has become symbolic of so many things to me. Closely tied to what is now a fully-fledged relationship with someone I feel incredibly lucky to know and love, this album means more to me than I can possibly put into a few-hundred-word blurb. This album speaks to me in ways that I never knew I needed and now represents something much bigger than the songs found within its walls. I love this record, I love my partner, and I feel lucky to have these memories and emotions tied to a single work of art so concretely. Much like the album itself, these feelings are bigger than any one song or sentiment. Ants is an insurmountable work that brushes up against the inarticulable in a way that has helped me understand my own life and love on a deeper level. 

Camp Cope - Running with the Hurricane

Run For Cover Records

It’s been four years since How To Socialize and Make Friends, and I am glad Camp Cope is back. Captivating as ever, Running with the Hurricane centers around the trifecta that made the group’s prior work so compelling; Georgia Maq’s iconic voice, Kelly-Dawn Helmrich’s bouncy basswork, and Sarah Thompson’s steady drumming holding everything together. It’s a triad that has driven this band apart from every other pier in their field and resulted in some of the most distinct output in the indie/emo sphere. 

Running with the Hurricane follows similar beats as previous Camp Cope LPs, buoyed by the stunning opener “Caroline” and the explosive, rolling heartland rock of its title track. The band winds through relationships, strife, and loss throughout the intervening seven songs, eventually landing on the cathartic “Sing Your Heart Out,” which I am man enough to admit that I openly sobbed to. Camp Cope is a band unlike any other, with a voice and a sound as outspoken as the members themselves. It’s good to have them back.

Carly Cosgrove - See You In Chemistry

Wax Bodega

An iCarly-themed emo band. That’s the elevator pitch for Carly Cosgrove, and odds are you will either balk at that or be sold immediately depending on your age and tolerance for committing to the bit. While the band’s schtick is funny and novel, the good news is (beyond their song titles and the occasional veiled reference), your enjoyment of this album is not dependent on your knowledge of mid-aughts Nickelodeon sitcoms. 

Going into this record, my main concern was the same with most emo LPs: will I like this for a full 40+ minutes? This genre is so entrenched in EPs, singles, and splits, and it’s pretty common for that bite-sized energy not to translate into a full-length record. I’m happy to report that Carly Cosgrove nailed it, though. Like any good emo band, the opening track “Sit ‘n’ Bounce” ignites with crowd-churning midwest guitar taps and clap-inspiring kick drums which immediately brings the energy up to a 10. Over the course of its 43-minute runtime, the band lays confessional and hyper-relatable lyrics about anxiety, mental health, and living in extremes over dynamic and ever-shifting instrumentation. See You In Chemistry is excellently sequenced, superbly written, even sticks the landing with an 8-minute closing track, a feat for any band, much less one this young. The result is an energetic and youthful debut that’s affable, affirming, and firmly committed to its vision.

Chastity - Suffer Summer

Deathwish Inc.

Much like Dazy, Chastity is a one-man project concerned with fuzzy grunge riffs and utterly immaculate hooks. Holding equal reverence for both Smashing Pumpkins and Jimmy Eat World, Suffer Summer is an album composed of breezy pop-punk tracks that gradually melt, giving way to the heaviness of reality. Each song boasts an earworm chorus, often in the form of a single infinitely-repeatable phrase, making it easy to belt along. Tracks like “Pummeling” feel as if they could have wormed their way into an early-2000s movie soundtrack right alongside the likes of heavy-hitters like “All The Small Things” and “The Middle.” Once the listener has acclimated to the sunnier sound of its first few songs, Suffer Summer takes some unexpected half-steps into neighboring genres and heavier topics, offering a fulfilling journey in just 34 minutes.

Cloakroom - Dissolution Wave

Relapse Records Inc.

Due solely to when it was released, Dissolution Wave essentially acted as the definitive close to my Obsessive Shoegaze Winter. I was in a dark place for a few months there, and this record felt like the perfect way to finally find closure and pull myself out of that spiral. A high-concept album pitched as a “space western in which an act of theoretical physics wipes out all of humanity’s existing art and abstract thought,” Dissolution Wave bears all the fuzzy, wobbly, soul-crushing riffs you can hope for from a shoegaze act as legendary as Cloakroom. There are catchy cuts like “A Force at Play,” bleary stoner rock tone on “Fear of Being Fixed,” and even some woozy countrygaze on “Doubts.” Despite its sky-high concept, Dissolution Wave remains an accessible shoegaze LP that offers an excellent case for the best of what the genre has to offer. 

Drunk Uncle - Look Up

Count Your Lucky Stars Records

Look, I can’t help it; I love that tappy shit. There’s something about my brain where it hears good midwest emo and releases a truckload of dopamine without fail. Does that sound goofy and extremely on-brand? Sure, but who am I to question it? Luckily for myself and others like me, Drunk Uncle brings the riffage in spades on their debut album. Released on the legendary label Count Your Lucky Stars, Look Up already had all the makings of a classic emo record before it even dropped. 

The album kicks off with a bouncy jostle and full-throated caterwaul. The tapping begins almost immediately, which, when paired with these remorseful wails, fills the Marietta-shaped hole in my heart. The sound remains remarkably consistent from the clappy lead single “Depakote” to the arid “Blue Skies,” but things take an unexpected electronic ascent mid-album. The band wanders from heartbreak to pensive ambient stretches before resolving tenaciously on the album’s horn-adored title track. It may be a modest 33-minute album from a band with a goofy name, but Look Up is pretty much everything I could ever want from an emo record. There’s no doubt in my mind that this album would be viewed as a classic within the genre if it had been released ten or even five years earlier. If there’s any justice in this world, Look Up will find its audience and eventually achieve that status in due time.

Proper. - The Great American Novel

Father/Daughter Records

The Great American Novel is a tome in album form. A densely-packed 15 tracks clocking in at just under an hour, the third LP from the Brooklyn-based indie rock group acts as a dispatch on life in America. Firmly rooted in its creator's perspective as a trio of Black creatives existing in primarily white spaces, this album is an unflinching dissection of everyday life in a country that alternates between indifference and outright objection to your existence. 

This album is a sharp synthesis of countless vital topics, and a huge part of what makes it such an exhilarating listen is how wide-set the scope is. Songs navigate everything from the music industry and masculinity to meaningless sex and complicated family trees, all in concise and compelling ways. Amongst these topics, the band also weaves a throughline of heavier, more complex subjects like systemic racism, the prison industrial complex, and the idea of identity and belonging. These are all inextricable facts of life for the band members of Proper, which is reflected in these songs in a beautifully heartbreaking way. Musically, the range of genres on display is just as diverse as the lyrics, with sounds stemming from a baseline of emo-flavored indie rock but stretching to shreddy heavy metal guitar, pitch-shifted spoken word passages, pissed-off beatdown vent sessions, and System of a Down-style political takedowns. Somehow, The Great American Novel lives up to its name; an impressive, diverse, and powerful document that offers an essential perspective on topics that can sometimes feel too big to broach, much less compartmentalize into a single song.