Fauxchella VI Recap

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Yours truly, about to have the weekend of his life.

First off, this is going to be much more of a “multimedia” post than this blog is used to. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I haven’t been publishing many things on Swim Into The Sound lately. In fact, I haven’t posted anything since August. Whoops. At first, that was kind of just a lack of inspiration. Then, I moved across the country, and that took a fair amount of brainpower, energy, and attention. After that, my excuse was that I was “settling in” to this new part of the country and enjoying life in my newly-no-longer long-distance relationship. Lately, I’ve been thinking it’s some combination of all those things. My life has shifted around massively, and sometimes things take a while to equalize. 

As I write this, I’m still recovering from Fauxchella VI, which happened smack-dab in the middle of October. If you didn’t read my massive 5,000-word Fauxchella interview/retrospective back in April, I don’t blame you (after all, it was 5,000 words). The gist of it is that Fauxchella VI was a three-day 69-band DIY punk festival that took place in Bowling Green, Ohio. This sixth iteration of this festival kicked off at 2:00 PM on Friday, October 13th, 2023, and played its final notes sometime around midnight on Sunday, October 15th. 

The days were packed with an overwhelming slew of talent, from plucky, fresh-faced newcomers like Saturdays at Your Place to seasoned scene vets like Dikembe. I got to shout along to Equipment, Ben Quad, and Michael Cera Palin. I got to see Carpool fight Summerbruise in a battle set I’ll never forget. I got to shout along to “Pepe Sylvia” and “Fight Milk!” on the same stage on the same weekend. It did my Midwest emo heart good.

The short version is that Fauxchella VI was a three-day all-you-can-eat buffet of riffs and infectious energy, and I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. There was popcorn, Jell-O shots, and an endless sea of merch nuzzled in the back, and if you’re anything like me, you are not immune to popcorn, Jell-O shots, or cool t-shirts.

The draw in both fans and talent was immense. Some bands traveled from neighboring Ohio towns, while others hopped on planes just for the opportunity to rip a 30 minute set in front of an adoring sold-out crowd. In my case, my girlfriend and I drove up 12 hours from North Carolina the night before just so we could be there all weekend. I’ve spent the last half-decade of my life listening to, loving, and writing about this type of music, and the opportunity to hear so many essential songs played loud-as-fuck and in-the-flesh was nothing short of life-affirming. 

The whole weekend was a constant stream of seeing bands I’ve loved for years, meeting people whose art I’ve written about, and finally putting faces to the names of Twitter avatars I’ve seen the whole pandemic. It was a beautiful, communal moment, all put together by the lovely people over at Summit Shack. Thank you, Conor, Ellie, and the whole crew, for everything you do, everything you’ve done, and everything I know you will put together in the future. You are the best of us, truly. 

I wanted to recap some of my favorite moments that I happened to catch on video because

  1. I want to document this weekend while the events are still fresh.

  2. I have COVID, so there’s nothing better to do than watch videos on my phone and reminisce.

  3. I want to keep this to the blog so I don’t annoy people on Twitter with an endless spool of emo music posting (at least more than I already do).

Also worth noting that this is not comprehensive, just some of my favorite sets as I saw them and captured them on video. Before we get into my little collection of homemade videos, I’d also like to share that I made this Spotify Playlist of (almost) every band’s most recent material in performance order if you’d like to listen along or just need 39.5 hours of emo music to fill your day. Let’s get into it.

Saturdays At Your Place

Going into Fauxchella, Saturdays At Your Place was one of the bands I was most excited to finally catch live. I’ve had always cloudy on repeat since January, and over the last ten months, it’s emerged as one of the strongest emo EPs of the year. At first, I was drawn in by the undeniable singalong emo anthem that is “Tarot Cards,” but I soon grew to love every track on the 18-minute release just as much. These days, I’m especially drawn to the cresting bombast of “eat me alive,” which was a marvel to scream along to live. If “pourover” is any indication,” the band’s upcoming split with Summerbruise and Shoplifter means we only have more heaters in the future.

NATL PARK SRVC

Only one band dared to cram eight of their own musicians onto the stage, and that was Minneapolis’ NATL PARK SRVC, whose excellent album Magician comes out in just a matter of days. For 30 minutes, the indie rock septet blessed us with hits from their upcoming record, including hit singles “Smiling” and “Dizzy.” Adorned with trumpet, violin, lap steel, and backup vox, these songs sprawled out into exciting, danceable bits of indie rock that sounded like no other band on the weekend’s lineup. The group also doled out CD copies of their album early so attendees could get a sneak peek at the double album before it hit streaming services. 

Thank You, I’m Sorry

Keeping the Minneapolis train going, Thank You, I’m Sorry took the stage at 6 pm for an absolutely triumphant set. Things began with a stripped-down rendition of “how many slugs can we throw against the wall until we question our own mortality,” which mounted into a gazy full-band wall of noise in the back half. After that crowd-pleasing classic, the band mostly played songs off their excellent sophomore album, Growing In Strange Places, which was released only a few weeks prior. There were fun little dance numbers (Chronically Online), fist-balling ragers (Head Climbing), and a solitary closing number where half the band walked into the crowd to spread a bouquet of flowers. A lovely, intimate, and affirming set from a band that just put out their best work yet. 

Funeral Homes

Chalk this up under “band I never thought I’d be lucky enough to see live,” Funeral Homes is my under-the-radar choice for best shoegaze band currently working. Performing as a three-piece, the trio launched through hit after hit off Blue Heaven, their hazy masterpiece from last year. These songs hit like a truck, and bobbing my head along to “Double Vision” is something I have been wanting to do since this time last year. It’s not often you get to hear one of your favorite shoegaze albums of the year played directly in your face for 30 minutes, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Equipment

While their members have moved around a bit in recent years, Equipment may, for all intents and purposes, be a Bowling Green band. With Toledo just a short 20-some-minute drive up the road, it’s fair to say Equipment had home field advantage when they took the stage at Howard's at 7 pm. The fact that they dropped an excellent EP earlier this year and a killer album just weeks ago meant that this might as well have been a hometown album release celebration, and it certainly felt like it. 

Perspective, A Lovely Hand To Hold

After a short pizza dinner break, we got back just in time to catch the career-spanning set of Perspective, A Lovely Hand To Hold, who made Fauxchella one of the stops on their farewell tour before putting the band to rest. The band took listeners through their discography backward, starting with some cuts off last year’s Phantasmagorialand and winding all the way back to crowd-pleasing classics like “Pepe Sylvia.” The band’s final show will take place at Fest 21 later this month, but I’m just glad I was able to see the New Hampshireites one last time before they put the project to bed—Perspective, Forever. 

Carpool vs. Summerbruise

In what I consider my personal “Main Event” of Fauxchella Day 1, we had a battle set between Rochester’s Carpool and Indianapolis’ Summerbruise. If you’ve read this blog even a little, you’ll know I have a storied history with each of these groups and loving their music. Between Erotic Nightmare Summer and The View Never Changes, these two bands have made some of the best collections of emo music this side of 2020, and to see them both on stage together was practically too much for my heart to bear. For an hour straight, the bands took turns ripping through their hits, trading blows, and swapping insults. After raging at each other and with the crowd for nearly an hour, the two bands squashed their beef, joining forces for a group cover of Limp Bizkit’s “Break Stuff,” which electrified the whole room. Two titans at the height of their power. 

Ben Quad

Ben Quad released the emo album of the year in 2022, and you could really tell as hordes of fans packed in so they could scream every word and note back at them. Pits were opened, fingers were pointed, and guitars were tapped. Performing against a backdrop of Dumb & Dumber clips, the band ripped through the high points of I’m Scared That’s All There Is, as well as their hardcore one-off “You’re Part of It” and songs off their freshly-released two-piece single. If you haven’t been riding the Ben Quad train, this set could have convinced even the most cold-hearted emo hater to jump on board. 

Charmer

I first saw Charmer at Fauxchella III back in 2019, and that set converted me into a lifelong fan. To see the band live again in the same spot four and a half years later only affirmed that they are masters of their domain. We were treated to songs off both their LPs, plus sneak peeks at a couple of upcoming tracks. The cherry on top came when they played “Topanga Lawrence” with live horn accompaniment courtesy of DIY Emo stalwart J-Fudge. A transcendent way to end day 1. 

Brown Maple

A band that feels primed to be the next Equipment, Brown Maple kicked off day 2 with a rockin’ cover of Katy Perry’s “Last Friday Night,” which made me feel like I was living in an unreleased copy of Punk Goes Pop. Despite some grogginess from the day before, the band quickly whipped the crowd up into a frenzy with their tap-happy riffage, pulling mainly from last year’s EP and recent singles. By the end of the set, a group of fans had stormed the stage, commandeering the mic, getting the day off to a great start in the process. 

Kerosene Heights

Kerosene Height’s first official album, Southeast Of Somewhere, has been a mainstay on my weekly charts and regular listening ever since it was first released at the beginning of the summer. I don’t even really have a great video to share because I spent the entire set up front screaming along to every word, and I guess that’s an endorsement enough on its own. 

Smoke Detector vs. Gwuak!

Early on in day 2, we had our second battle set of the festival as the twinkly Smoke Detector went head to head with the tap-happy Gwuak. Each two-piece commanded their half of the stage, bouncing through hits from their recent records, but the room truly came alive when Smoke Detector pulled out the big guns: a cover of Natasha Bedingfield’s “Unwritten.”

Aren’t We Amphibians

Scheduled up next were Aren’t We Amphibians, who were traveling up from San Diego and just dropped a fantastic little EP, which I was excited to see live. On Friday, their van broke down, stranding the group somewhere in Arizona. But fear not! The DIY community is a vast support network. By the next day, the group had met their Go Fund Me goal and were back on the road to kick off a tour with Equipment… but they would sadly miss their Fauxchella set. This was a bummer until the spirit of DIY camaraderie provided a miracle of a fill-in band in the form of…

MooseCreek Park

I wouldn’t have known about MooseCreek Park if it wasn’t for Swim Into The Sound’s very own Brandon Cortez, who reviewed the band’s new album for this site back when it dropped in July. Thanks to Brandon’s glowing review, I felt like I was in early on the frantically-tapping New Jersey weedmo group. I was ready to witness the frantic tapping of “Ok Dylan” and belt out the chorus of “Pieces,” and while I was sad to miss AWA, swapping them with MooseCreek wound up being a more-than-suitable consolation prize. 

Dad Bod

Yet even more Minneapolis representation, let’s talk about Dad Bod. I hope we’re all in agreement that “Rot” is one of the greatest songs of the 2010s because that’s a given to me. Hearing that song live was an absolute revelation; even though I still want to hear the band blow that instrumental at the end into a wandering outro, but I’ll take it. Aside from that, the band’s live presence created a crushing and engaging wall of sound, all backed by School of Rock’s invigorating middle act. 

Brewster

On from the sad stuff to the yee-haw stuff, Brewster brought the country-fried excellence for a twangy alt-country sway that made me miss the sweet tea back in North Carolina. Interestingly enough, the band is based in Jersey, which is funny since the record feels like an easy recommendation for anyone who used to like Pinegrove. If that’s not enough for you, Brewster also manages to drawl things out into a My Morning Jacket or even Drive-by Truckers-esque bramble, which I always appreciate. 

Okay, rapid-speed through the rest of Day 2 because whew…

Riley! 

Incredible to witness live. Their energy and proficiency know no bounds. The new stuff sounds great 👀

Cheem

Felt like I was witnessing history watching this band play these songs live. People packed in to shake their asses to “Smooth Brain,” as they should. 

Newgrounds Death Rugby

One of my biggest surprises of Fauxchella was how incredible NGDR sounds live. The perfect balance of dancing and moshpitting.

Short Fictions

Also having just put out an awesome album, the Short Fictions set was half new, half tried-and-true oldies. 

Oldsoul

Yeah, there was a Macarena in the pit. You read that right. They started with “High On Yourself,” and I belted along with every word.

Michael Cera Palin 

I’ve been waiting about five years to finally see this band live. They have two EPs, a single, a song on a comp, and a goofy cover of “Soak Up The Sun.” Every song is incredible. I know every molecule to these songs, and part of me couldn’t even believe I was taking them in live. They played the obligatory cover, but everyone knows it’s way better to scream along to “GodDAMN, I need a cigarette!” 

Next, I watched Camping in Alaska and Dikembe respectfully, tiredly, and excitedly, from the sidelines. Good, because the next day started early with a last-minute solo acoustic house show at 10 am from…

Equipment

Celebrating the five-year anniversary of their (loosely) disowned first album, Ruthless Sun, Nick Zander from Equipment led a basement full of about two dozen fans through a full-album playthrough early on Sunday morning. We huddled up with our coffees and sang along with this rudimentary form of Quippy as Zander padded the time between songs with color commentary and easter eggs. A few lyrics were forgotten, and a few other, newer songs were slipped into the mix, but this felt like a beautiful moment of homecoming and celebrating the album that got the band to their new album, which is the culmination of years worth of touring, songwriting, and turn-grinding. A special thing to be a part of. 

Mango Tree

Two of the members of Mango Tree had just gotten married weeks earlier, but they put off their honeymoon just to play a hometown show surrounded by friends, and lemme tell you, it was worth it. The second time I teared up on Sunday alone, this alt-folk punk set was intimate, therapeutic, and love-filled. A brilliant high note to start the day out on.

Hummus Vacuum

AKA Rivers Cuomo

Yes, that’s the name of the band, yes we brought them hummus, yes they have a song about getting your foreskin taken. Any more questions?

See Through Person

I’m not in the business of betting on the success of a band; I just write about shit that rips. However, if I were to be making bets on who’s preparing to have a big 2024, it’s See Through Person. The Florida-Michigan transplants only have six songs released across two EPs, but not only do they all rip, but the kids came out for this set, making for a sweaty 2 pm prelude to the final battle set of the festival…

Ben Quad vs. Arcadia Grey

Going into this, I thought for sure this was going to be a clean sweep. Then I saw how many people packed in for Arcadia Grey’s set the night before, and I wasn’t so sure. The set began with a kidnapping and ended in a kiss. I love happy endings, especially when a Modern Baseball cover comes before the finale. 

Honey Creek

Easycore is back, and we have Honey Creek to thank for that. I definitively fucked up my voice during this set, screaming along to every word of the band’s just-released Self Preservation. Plus, I always respect a band adopting a uniform, and the all-white get-ups were a nice touch that tied everything together. 

Innerlove.

Another country counterpoint to Fauxchella’s typically-emo-leaning lineup, Innerlove brought the twangy goodness as they played hit after hit off their summery Roscoe. A prime example of the Emo To Alt-Country Pipeline, Innerlove specalize in songs about drinking (negative) and bad decisions (also negative). Luckily, the songs are so fun to sing along to live that you almost forget all that. Bonus points for having the hardest, loudest drummer of the whole weekend. 

Excuse Me, Who Are You?

Earlier this year, I spent about 1k words waxing poetic about the awesome four-track EP from Excuse Me, Who Are You?, so if you want to know my specific thoughts on this band, go read that. In what might have been the most hardcore set of day 3, EMWAY ripped the roof off Howard’s as hordes of fans screamed along to every anguished turn of the band’s screamo set. Fists were swung, pits were opened, and minds were blown. 

Swiss Army Wife

Look, I’ve lived in the Midwest, up in the mountains, and down south, but in my heart of hearts, I’ll always be a Pacific Northwest boy from Portland, Oregon. The same goes for Swiss Army Wife, a tall-as-hell emo crew who flew out from my home state just to give the Midwest a taste of their fucked-up dance-punk. 

Palette Knife

I’ve been a fan of Palette Knife since their first album, but their music sounded almost too precise and too acute to be real. I’m happy to report that, when playing live, these guys can bang out every riff you hear on the record and make them sound even more full of life. It probably helped that a few dozen fans crammed up against the side stage to help scream along to every lyric and thrash along to every breakdown, but wow, sometimes seeing is believing. 

Khaki Cuffs

In one of the most novel arrangements of Fauxchella, Khaki Cuffs’ set found bandleader Brody Hamilton behind the kit as a standalone mic allowed the crowd (and a couple guest stars) to take up vocal duties as the guitars and bass played along with Hamilton’s live percussion. This was my first time seeing Khaki Cuffs live, and it was fun to see these songs in such a novel way. 

At this point, I was drained and practically dead on my feet from three straight days of music festing. The breathtaking Jetty Bones played Fauxchella VI out with their confessional brand of indie rock, and the next day, we were all back to our normal lives. In my case, we were waking up early to check out of our Air Bnb and settling in for a 12-plus hour drive back to North Carolina. We were drained physically, emotionally, and financially, but infinitely satiated by three days of meeting friends and taking in incredible set after incredible set. I felt blessed to see so many of these bands in their best form and watch a countless number of my own favorite emo songs played directly into my face. I may have gotten sick as hell and spent the next three days sleeping off COVID, but Fauxchella VI was everything I ever would have wanted and then some. Thanks to everyone involved, every band that played, and every friend that said ‘hi,’ you make this all worth it, and I can’t wait to do it all again someday. 

Buck Meek – Haunted Mountain | Album Review

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4AD

I’ve often felt that it takes at least three listens for an album to truly imprint itself on my brain, but Buck Meek’s latest struck me with a stunning immediacy and an absorbency that was almost magnetic. Best known for being one-quarter of the Grammy-nominated Pitchfork-headlining indie band Big Thief, Meek has released two prior solo records, appeared in a Bob Dylan concert film, and also used to be married to Adrianne Lenker. From a life as full and complex as Meek’s, his prior solo work has been lovely and simple, but this has expanded considerably with Haunted Mountain.

Right from the beginning of the record, “Mood Ring” strikes the listener with something buzzy and complicated and new, a blurry melange of notes from guitars, maracas, and modular synthesizers. This track is fresh without being off-puttingly experimental; it bears almost no resemblance to the straightforward country-folk notes that composed his previous solo releases. “Cyclades” is another bright spot in the album’s progression, with electric guitars reminiscent of 60s power rock in both chord progression and instrumentation. (I scribbled “delectable” in my notes during my first listen.) “There are too many stories to remember / Too many stories to tell,” Meek sings, with the sonic richness of the music complementing the feeling of abundance. 

Meek soon returns to his mellow folk roots further in the record; the title track, “Haunted Mountain,” co-written with Jolie Holland, features glossy lap steel guitar and a square dance percussion. “Lullabies” dips into the American folk classic “You Are My Sunshine” to touching effect. Meek strikes a delicate balance between rock and folk in “Undae Dunes.” This song features thumping percussion and a prominent bass romping behind the lap steel guitar; the composition feels crowded with influences and emotions. 

At moments, the jaunty folk-inflected rock reminded me of contemporaries like MJ Lenderman and Wednesday, but without the restlessness and brashness that grants energy and power to the newcomers’ work. Meek’s music is reflective, dealing with themes of soulfulness and travel rather than Formula One racing and high-end butcher stores. It’s almost as though the newcomers to the country-rock scene (or bootgaze, or whatever you want to call it) are more grounded, while Buck Meek, although perhaps older and more worldly, seems to have less of a sense of self.

The album ends with an unusual collaboration of sorts; Meek was given the opportunity to finish a song by the Christian songwriter Judee Sill, who died in 1979, eight years before Meek was born. “The Rainbow,” with lyrics written three weeks before Sill’s death, is a partnership that crosses generations and folk styles to arrive, gauzelike, in our ears. I have complicated feelings about this song; it sounds vaguely like Sill, with slight seventies folk sensibilities; it sounds more like an influence and less like a replica. Whether or not it matches up with Sill’s intentions for the piece is unknowable. Meek stated that his intention with this song was to act as a “vessel” for the late Sill, and this is a staggeringly difficult role for any musician to play, technically and ethically. Yet what I hear is fundamentally a Buck Meek song, and to include it as the album’s closer is an extremely bold move.

In parsing this record for weakness, I could find only the unfortunate fact of the voice. Buck Meek is an extraordinary instrumentalist, but he is markedly less extraordinary of a singer. His voice has a smallness to it, a reedy and almost nasal quality, which leaves the instruments to fill the space where stronger vocals might be in other artists’ songs. I like his previous solo work a tremendous amount, which largely consists of him singing alongside a single guitar; the simplicity works for his voice there in a way that the more complex formulations fail to do. The upward-tilting vocals also make these songs feel exceedingly wistful, almost like children’s music. The overall effect is saccharine and goopy, with all the sincerity of a Big Thief song but none of the elegance.

That being said, this record is a remarkable and sometimes enjoyable foray, a valuable addition to the rapidly growing catalog of American country-rock music. There is a certain looseness in the production that befits the impromptu jam-like feeling that suffuses this record. This record reminds me of a family, commenting on love in all its complicated, imperfect, myriad forms.

Elizabeth is a neuroscience researcher in Chicago. She writes about many things—art, the internet, apocalyptic thought, genetically modified mice–on her substack handgun.substack.com. She is from Northern Nevada.

Crooks & Nannies – Real Life | Album Review

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Grand Jury Music

​​Is this real life? It feels really bad sometimes.

Max Rafter and Sam Huntington, better known as Crooks & Nannies, are here to ask the questions that have been on all of our minds the last few years. The duo met in High School and began making music together (formerly as The Original Crooks and Nannies) before seemingly taking time off after their 2016 release Ugly Laugh. Seven years and a handful of singles later, they’ve returned with Real Life, an innovative and haunting record chronicling the beauty and horror of coming to understand yourself. 

Real Life begins with chirping bugs and the hum of outside, starting the Huntington-led “N95,” an evocative song about losing a loved one to illness and wanting them to know who you really are before it’s too late. Her father was diagnosed with terminal cancer in early 2020, just days after she started hormone therapy. After his passing, the duo started writing the songs for Real Life in the cabin he had been building before his diagnosis. 

The cabin itself is woven into the record–from beginning to end, you feel as though you’re sitting on the porch with a friend, trading cigarettes and stories from the past few years of your life. The brilliance of “N95” is in its simplicity. It only takes two verses to completely crush you: “I tell you I’m a woman while you sit with the dog / On the bed in the room where I put on the bras / Cause you die in a week either way / So I won’t wait.” Sonically, it feels like a spaceship slowly starting up, abducting you into the world of Crooks & Nannies, before drowning you in a final chorus of the word “wait” that stretches on for nearly a minute.

The contrast between the duo’s songwriting is a great strength throughout Real Life, and the second track- lead single and Max Rafter-led “Temper”- features some of their best lyrics like “giving gives pleasure, but it means I gotta work a little harder / power gives pleasure easily” and “it doesn’t have to meet my every need / a seagull in a parking lot still eats.” Musically, it’s a song that could easily be straightforward, but Crooks & Nannies pepper in growling background vocals, buried screams, and guitars that burn through you like lasers before ending as abruptly as it began. 

“Cold Hands,” one of my favorite tracks from the record, features Huntington singing about someone who has supported her through indecision and uncertainty. Crooks & Nannies are adept at painting a picture with sound instead of lyrics. When Huntington sings, “It's flooding in the b a s e m e n t,” the way it’s sung physically takes you down to the basement and makes you feel like you’re drowning there with all her things. Another thing they do incredibly well is creating dynamic moments, making full use of their range. “Cold Hands” is a song that starts and remains mostly soft-spoken- until the end when it erupts in booming swell bass, stinging guitars, and record scratches. Yes, record scratches. And it works incredibly well. 

On “Big Mouth Bass,” Rafter sings about the unique bond of a friendship with someone who understands you. Breaking plates and laughing together. The song feels like sitting in the grass on a warm day and teeters back and forth from soft country to Motion-City-Soundtrack-esqe synths. Some of the song's best moments are the contrast between the huge, layered guitars and vocals before cutting to just an acoustic guitar and Rafter’s twang-tinged voice. 

The undeniable centerpiece of the record is “Growing Pains,” a song that speaks on the struggles of transitioning and coming to terms with who you are. With lyrics like “I hurt myself bad without blinking and wanna know why that’s a thing that I do,” Huntington is digging all the bad parts from inside herself and presenting them to you, the listener. The fear of hurting those closer to you without meaning to is universal, and “Growing Pains” nails that feeling before ultimately ending on a positive note: “I don’t wanna die / I wanna do something right.” The vocal effects when she sings “I’m moving through space and time” sonically align you with the lyrics, making you feel like you’re moving with them. Similarly, there’s a persistent “tick and tick and tick and tick” of time in the aforementioned “Big Mouth Bass.”

“Country Bar” and “The Gift” are the next two Rafter-led tracks, the former about taking apart a relationship like a mechanical bull before piecing it back together and attempting to make everything fit, while the latter is possibly exhuming the end of a relationship. Both songs are heartwarming and insightful windows into the struggle that comes with these seismic changes in a partnership. “The Gift” features some of Sam Huntington’s most intricate drum work and more poignant lyrics from Rafter - “I touched the pan / yeah I knew it was hot / so why’d I touch it? / being carefully cruel to the things that you love is still careless.”

Track eight, “Immaculate,” begins with the screeching and creaking of violins, creating an eerie horror movie-like vibe at the start of the track that permeates the whole song. Another high point of the record; the lyrics reference Rafter’s struggle with alcohol. The ending will stop you in your tracks as all the music cuts out, leaving just Max’s voice along with a pitched-down backup singing:

I won’t have another drink
cause I don’t wanna be that guy anymore
but it hurts to sit and think
I think I better take a walk

The record ends with “Weather” and “Nice Night.” While “Weather” was written over the course of a nighttime bike ride by Huntington, “Nice Night” feels like the return from that bike ride and places us back on the porch of the cabin where we began the record. Musically, “Weather” leans into the band’s darker side, constantly wondering if we who are makes us bad. The heavy, slamming guitars reflect that inner conflict as Huntington sings, “I’m fucking not playing, don’t leave me alone / I don’t wanna find out what I’m capable of” before cutting out to a good 15 seconds or so of silence, giving us time to think about what we just heard. Silence is something Crooks & Nannies use throughout their record to great success. In my opinion, the silence they leave us with is just as important as their music. “Nice Night” harkens back to the theme of friendship, rounding out the record with a beautiful, drifting saxophone and Rafter accepting the horrors of being truly understood. 

Crooks & Nannies have created something incredible with Real Life that already feels like it will stand the test of time. It’s one of those rare records that lingers in your mind, beckoning you to come back over and over again until you can fully understand all of its inner and outer workings. It’s the friend you return to while the strobe of the porch flickers on and off, so bright with raw truth and talent that you have to shield your eyes. It’s an honest reflection of who we are, the good and the bad, that I will continue to return to no matter how much it hurts to hear. Like a moth to the light. 

My name is Alex, and I make music as Birthday Dad! I released my debut album, The Hermit, last year and have vinyl available now from Refresh Records! Follow me on Twitter and everything else! @iambirthdaydad

Ratboys – The Window | Album Review

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Topshelf Records

There is a moment I love from Ratboys’ debut album AOID, on their song “Charles Berenstein.” Amidst a song about love and confusion, the instrumentals suddenly switch to a waltzy three-four time signature for a measure or two, with an ascending bass line imbuing the piece with a bouncy and breezy, almost jazzy, feeling. It’s a bold move; a sudden musical change like this could feel abrupt and out of place, but Ratboys pulled it off, making it sound sealed and solid. I love this moment because it’s cool and makes me want to dance, but also because you can feel the whole group perfectly operating as a unit. 

For a band that has felt so coherent and solid from their debut, it is hard to imagine improvement. Yet Ratboys have continued to surpass themselves, with each record outdoing the last in style and emotive depth. The Window, their fifth and latest record, is the culmination of this stunning growth, with the band writing all songs together for the first time. It also marks the first time the band has recorded an album outside of Chicago, which struck me as curious since the record carries a quintessentially Chicago flavor, that specific jaunty and reckless strain of indie rock. Instead, the songs were recorded in Seattle with producer Chris Walla, known for his involvement in the band Death Cab for Cutie, who pushed the band to expand their repertoire while leaving the Chicago sound intact. Described by frontwoman Julia Steiner as a “dedicated and intentional process,” the songs were written and rehearsed for two years before seeing the light of production.

Right from the opening track, the composition and energy diverge from the rest of the band’s repertoire while maintaining the ethos of tenderness that has characterized their music from their earliest releases. Throughout the album, grungy, garage-rock-inflected motifs veer into power pop and country-folk territory, and the songs feature lyrics ranging from punchy and defiant to grim and reflective. The band even leans into goofy horror aesthetics in the record’s smash lead single “It’s Alive!” which continues the record’s window theme while also articulating a particular kind of American ennui: “I feel it all, frozen in my house / All around, it’s in the stars / It’s speeding towards the sign.” There is even a brief fiddle featured on “Morning Zoo,” showing the magic of their bold new songwriting experiments.

Lead single “Black Earth, WI,” is almost nine minutes in length and features a transcendental guitar solo that evokes a different time in rock and roll history when guitar solos were treated with a different kind of attention and reverence. More rollicking garage rock fun adorns “Crossed That Line” and “Empty,” with gutsy energy creating a noisy but endlessly danceable groove. The fuzzy guitars propel Steiner’s vocals to ethereal heights. The lyrics on these songs would feel snotty if they weren’t so confident: “Get it? I got it / It’s not what I wanted / it’s fucking dumb.” This young feeling of rebellion revived suffuses other songs, as in “No Way,” where Steiner sings, “I’ll take a penny for your thoughts, and I’ll throw it straight to hell / There’s no way you’ll control me again.”

The album’s title track carries a smashing rock effect, which belies the stunningly intimate lyrics about the death of Steiner’s grandmother in June of 2020. According to Steiner, protections from the COVID-19 pandemic dictated that the family had to say their goodbyes through an open window in her grandmother’s nursing home, unable to be physically close. Steiner notes that many of the lyrics in the song come from quotes her grandfather said to her grandmother through the window: “I need to tell you everything / before it’s too late / That I don’t regret a single day / And you’re so beautiful.” The song is so upbeat and catchy it is almost impossible to cry, striking an energetic tone amidst a reflection on grief and change.

Closing out the record, “Bad Reaction” is the final jewel in the crown. Following the diversely uptempo offerings of the other songs, “Bad Reaction” stands in partial contrast to the busy and ambitious sonic textures of the other songs, with poignant and spare composition. The quieter sound makes the sincerity of the song all the more meaningful and shows that Ratboys can do more than crash and crush. The emotions of the song feel achingly clear and present, to me at least, my heartstrings pulled as Steiner’s clear voice asks, “What’s the one thing you love / what’s the one thing you love / what’s the one thing you love now?” Although I have never driven a car fast in reverse, as Steiner sings, I feel a profound sense of relatability with the song, which carries a certain hallowed resonance I struggle to describe. Perhaps it is simply the keen pain of a singular longing. Either way, it captures the peculiarly unhappy feeling of being young and listless in America with a haunting specificity that also feels universal. 

Such a wide range of sounds and emotions could sound disjointed with any other band at the helm, but Ratboys manage to make it sound cohesive and solid, a confident execution of a bold artistic vision. The Window showcases a band’s growth and documents their lineage within a specific indie scene. They are at once omnivorous and ambitious, cheeky and contemplative, salty and sweet.

Elizabeth is a neuroscience researcher in Chicago. She writes about many things—art, the internet, apocalyptic thought, genetically modified mice–on her substack handgun.substack.com. She is from Northern Nevada.

Broken Record – Nothing Moves Me | Album Review

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Really Rad Records

“What do you do / When the void fills you? /
A steady flow of vacant thoughts / The sum of which is nil.”

The internal Swim Into The Sound upcoming release doc listed Broken Record’s Nothing Moves Me as “Sunny Day Real Estate + The Cure = Stadium emo.” Despite being an English teacher, this equation made immediate sense and piqued my curiosity.

I feel the need to express that this is not going to be a typical review. It’s not that this album’s music is not worth talking about in the stereotypical “awesome #toanz, dude” manner (the #toanz are indeed awesome, dude). As a music listener, however, I am drawn first toward how all of the instruments and vocals sound in concert with one another. Nothing Moves Me showcases lyrics that, funnily enough, move me and push me as both a music fan and critic.  

For some more context, I am a person who struggles with depression. Right around when I received the press stream of Nothing Moves Me, I was prescribed Lexapro. At first, it felt like a godsend. Spring and then summer wore on, and my partner confirmed something I had suspected: the prescription muted me and my world. Everything felt evenly mediocre. After a while, everything feeling mediocre starts to suck. I would rather experience the ups and downs.

It was during this period of medication that I played Nothing Moves Me over and over again. Regardless of my personal state, this is certifiably catchy emo. There are hooks on hooks and beautiful harmonies in every track, especially in singles “Weightless,” “Blueprinting,” and “See It Through.” These three songs buoy the record's first half with exciting second-wave emo sounds, the intro to “See It Through” almost sounds like it's referencing Taking Back Sunday’s “Cute Without the ‘E’ (Cut From the Team).”

Beyond hooks, the band excels with track sequencing. “Weightless” opens up into a spacey bridge that seamlessly meanders into “Round 2,” the epic six-plus-minute track. As a Jimmy-Eat-World-album-closer nerd, singer-guitarist Lauren Beecher, guitarist Matt Dunne, bassist Corey Fruin, and drummer Nick Danes are appealing directly to me. (Dear Broken Record: please explore this anthemic, slowcore-leaning sound more on your next release.)

What impresses me most, though, is the use of production and composition to enhance those hooks. Opener “Nothing Moves Me” begins with driving a dirty, driving bass line that trickles into a tight song with a contrasting, clean, right-panned arpeggiated guitar. The first song on the album showcases just how great a band Broken Record are; the following 32 minutes are a cherry on top.

“What about the lyrics, Joe?” is what you should be asking right now.

Now weaning myself off Lexapro, Nothing Moves Me hits differently. The reverb-rich and chorus-laden production makes the album sound underwater, which is how I feel when I am in the throes of a rough depressive period. Then there is the album’s cover, which features a skeleton sitting in the shade rather than the sun. Hell, the title is Nothing Moves Me. All this context pushed me to engage more deeply with the lyrics, and the epiphany was confirmed: this is an album about depression. The songs are not necessarily hiding this message; my world was just too grayed out to see it. The theme of depression permeates every track, but personal favorites include “Runner’s Digest” (“But I can’t fake / away the shame / I’m sick of empty hope / and consolation prizes”) and “Vacuum Tube Supplies” (the whole dang song).

Broken Record’s Nothing Moves Me is an important album not only for the upstart Colorado band but for all listeners, those contending with mental health issues or not. The sophomore effort solidifies Broken Record as incumbent torchbearers for both the genre, and for those wrestling with a void inside themselves, myself included. While it is one thing to create an incredible piece of art like Nothing Moves Me, it is another thing entirely to speak to and validate a population of people typically misunderstood for their behaviors and attitudes. Broken Record make doing both look easy.

Joe Wasserman lives with his partner and their dogs in Brooklyn. When he’s not listening to music, he plays bass in bands, writes stories, and releases music as After School Special. You can find him on Twitter at @a_cuppajoe.