Eichlers – SONGS OFFLINE | EP Review

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Eichlers - SONGS OFFLINE EP

Bad Time Records

As an individual in my late 20s, I came up squarely in the autotune generation – artists like T-Pain, Daft Punk, Ke$ha, Hellogoodbye, and countless others were making waves during my formative years, to the praise of some and the disgust of others. For the most part, I grew up the latter, taking the stance shared by many that autotune is a crutch more than it is a tool. Despite autotune eventually falling out of favor within the realm of pop music, the hyperpop genre and pioneering acts like 100 gecs have reembraced and recontextualized the sound in recent years. In just a short matter of time, the hyperpop genre has sprawled out to embrace a myriad of subgenres, creating a space for various styles of “online music” to thrive, eventually leading to new subgenres like Hyperska.

If you are unfamiliar with the genre, Hyperska is exactly what it sounds like: a marriage of electronic hyperpop production and peppy ska upstrokes – and no artist has embraced this intersection of genres more than Eichlers. I have been a fan of Eichlers for a few years now, an artist who first popped up on my radar around 2022 when I heard him featured on Half Past Two’s cover of “Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom!!” with We Are The Union, who were my latest ska crush at the time. My only context for what would later be described as “Hyperska” was 100 gecs’ “Stupid Horse,” and I was completely awe-struck by the seamless blending of those “hyper” elements in a ska context. Almost singlehandedly, Ike brought the genre Hyperska to a similar light as its digitized cousins, employing familiar tools like autotune but infusing them with sensibilities inspired by the New Tone movement helmed by the incomparable Bad Time Records. Whether you’ve come around on the unrestrained use of autotune in the current culture or not, the same question indelibly comes up – “can this artist actually sing, or are they hiding behind these effects?”

In December of 2022, Eichlers performed an acoustic set that made the rounds on social media. At the time, I even made a point to repost the video of “My Checkered Future” acoustic, saying “I need an Eichlers Goes Acoustic EP.” Little did I know that is exactly what we were given with SONGS OFFLINE – a well-curated collection of iconic Eichlers bangers, stripped down to their base parts and repackaged in ways I never could have imagined at the time. While I never questioned Eichlers’s motives for employing autotune in his songs, I am ecstatic that we, as listeners, have been blessed with this opportunity to hear what Eichlers’s music would sound like in a more stripped-down setting. 

One would naturally assume that Hyperska without the “hyper” would simply be acoustic ska music; however, what we are given on this EP is something completely different. Eichlers has already teased his affinity for Midwest emo stylings, particularly with his recent interpretation of “Hollywood Baby” by 100 gecs. This time around, Eichlers decided to lean into his emo sensibilities even further, giving these songs a whole new personality as a result. 

The EP appropriately opens with the first track off of his most recent LP, “Hi (Acoustic Edition).” On the original album, Ike employs a wide range of electronic staples – from booming bass to powerful brass blasts, that are completely absent from this version. The result is a classic, acoustic emo ballad that can only be recognized by lyrics and particular parts of the vocal melody. We are lulled into an emotive, pensive intro track – complete with a relaxed, repeating guitar line presented through crisp, clean production. The aforementioned emo style also lands perfectly on songs like “OHMYGOD” and “2 OF US,” both of which offer gripping lyrics and somber melodies that blend gorgeously with the raw, acoustic backing. 

After several back-to-back listens, the final track, “My Checkered Future,” remains my favorite on the EP. The way Eichlers layers simple chords and buoyant single-note lines captures a similar energy to the original version while simultaneously solidifying its own identity. I can’t think of a more suitable way to close this finely-tuned collection of songs. 

Whether you’ve been a faithful Ikebeast for many years or just discovered Eichlers through this context, there is something in this EP for everyone. SONGS OFFLINE is both a stunning repackaging of Eichler’s most enduring tracks as well as a staunch reminder that he carries his genius and his unwaveringly infectious energy throughout all forms and interpretations.   

Ciara Rhiannon (she/her) is a pathological music lover writing out of a nebulous location somewhere in the Pacific Northwest within close proximity of her two cats. She consistently appears on most socials as @rhiannon_comma, and you can read more of her musical musings over at rhiannoncomma.substack.com. 

Cheekface – It’s Sorted | Album Review

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SELF-RELEASED

Despite being “America’s local band,” I had not heard of Cheekface until the release of “Plastic” in August of 2023. This was the third single from their (at the time still unannounced) fourth studio album, and after seeing the reaction from veteran Cheekface fans online, it became clear that I was missing out on something. It also became clear that, much like the band, their fans have no interest in what is cool. They are drawn to lead singer and guitarist Greg Katz’s dry, “talk-singing” delivery, which at times can feel like Steve Burns with a post-graduate degree and GAD giving you clues on how to survive the shiny new toaster world we live in. 

This was also part of the appeal to bassist/vocalist Amanda Tannen when the band formed in Los Angeles around 2017, stating she wanted to “be in a band that is not cool.” If you can get past the initial turn-your-nose-up-at-anything-earnest feeling you might have, you are liable to find yourself grooving along to these songs as you think critically about the morality of Ring Cameras and 3D printers. It turns out that doing things on your own terms resonates with people, regardless of the risk for potential uncoolness or overly earnest sentiments. Despite having no major label (the band self-releases all their music on Katz’s own New Professor Music), Cheekface continues to do their thing- selling out shows and growing their audience with each release. Cheekface is a cult. You either get it or you don’t. 

The first track on It’s Sorted gets to the heart of that success (or lack of it). “Success is cringe / I wanna be on the fringe,” Katz sings on the anxiety-ridden opener. The song manifests as a mission statement for the band as drummer Mark Edwards’ consistent, pounding rhythm mimics your speeding heart rate. “Me and panic woke up together / this is not one night, no it is forever” Katz sweats out before settling on making avocado toast for breakfast. On “Popular 2,” the band waxes poetic about doorbell cameras and the panopticon, stating, “If I’m never gonna be alone / here in my community neighborhood home / then I wanna be popular to watch / on the movie you put on from the camera on your porch.” The future is here, and the future is weird. Take comfort in the drone flying overhead! You can’t possibly be lonely if a TV show of your life is being filmed every time you leave the house or rustle your blinds. 

An anthem for growing at your own pace, “I Am Continuing To Do My Thing” sees Katz personifying his messy life. He is NOT jealous of the success of his former college friends. Who cares if their careers are taking off or their bands are blowing up? This track really highlights Cheekface’s sense of humor- one day, you’re “dispassionately vaping while you water the plants,” and the next, you’re “vaping in the parking lot with Dwayne ‘The Rock’ Johnson.” If you compare your success to others, you’ll never be happy. Advice that’s almost as good as, “If you steal a cop car, you will never get pulled over” from the same song’s second verse. 

The first half of the album closes out with “Life in a Bag,” a song that locks you in with a swirly synth and bouncing bassline for another track about being ok where you’re at. The almost-rapping of the verses can be off-putting at first, especially if you are poisoned by too-coolness like myself. Lines like “heaven is just wiggly air, and I’m alive now” can feel like trying to down a sugary shot without making a face, but if you open your heart to sincerity, you will soon be singing along to “Life in a bag, living my life in a bag, thank you for putting me in this bag.” 

If you couldn’t already tell, Cheekface is a lyrically dense band. They have a lot to say about the minutiae of the world, but they’re also going to make you dance. They keep you guessing in the back half of the album, offering a departure from Side A's funky and upbeat sound. An ode to new beginnings and American materialism, “Trophy Hunting At the Zoo” is only a minute long and features noisy downpicked guitar alongside pitched-down vocals. They have fun with anatomy on “Largest Muscle” and go from unserious to inspirational in the same verse- “your eyes are your largest muscle / they can recognize me when I’m wearing a hat.” How do we do that?? Katz is right if you really think about it. He’s also right about one of the most poignant lines on the record, moments later singing, “Your mind is so big and supple / you can turn that thing around at any point.” The human spirit is resilient. 

It’s Sorted closes out our journey (pun intended) with two of the best songs on the record- “Don’t Stop Believing” and “Plastic.” The former speaks again to that resilience: “We hum through our days of constant striving, and everybody seems to hum in time / the lies come free, the truths behind a paywall for $1.99.” The group wraps things up by contemplating if you can 3D print love on the album’s closer. All this needless complication and technology might make things simpler, but it comes with the cost of everything looking like the same gray plastic. 

In just under 30 minutes, Cheekface sorts the emotional recycling of your mind, leaving you cleaner and clearer than when you started. It does feel sorted- into good and bad and weird and cool (and not cool). It’s serious and anxiety-ridden, and it’s also silly. Despite thinking about everything, Cheekface faces the problems of the world with a certain nonchalance and positivity- and it might just make them the coolest band in the world.  

My name is Alex, and I make music as Birthday Dad! I released my debut album, The Hermit, in 2022 and have vinyl available now from Refresh Records! Follow me on Twitter and everything else! @iambirthdaydad

glass beach – plastic death | Album Review

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RUN FOR COVER RECORDS

I have spent years trying to appreciate the Grateful Dead. Everything about them should be exactly my speed: psychedelic country rock with long-winded live performances? I’m usually all-in on that sort of thing, but their acclaim has eluded me ever since I began getting into music. They’re a huge influence on so many artists I love, from The Black Crowes to Kurt Vile, yet I’ve never been able to figure out my disconnect. As a flagship band of music nerdery, I re-examine the Dead about every eighteen months to see if my tastes have finally progressed to a place that will let them in, but no such luck.

I say this all to contextualize my thesis: glass beach is my anti-Grateful Dead. Nothing about this band should work for me, but I find them absolutely fascinating. Their influences of note, like Car Seat Headrest and Radiohead, have been among my most maligned artists since my first encounters. glass beach’s lowercase presentation, sometimes erratic genre-hopping, and hour-plus album runtimes are all things I’ve turned my nose up at when done by other bands. It’s the way they create a specific melting pot with all of these things, the way it all comes together in the end. They deliver their brand of leftfield indie rock a cut above other groups, and they aren’t shy about proving it on plastic death.

the first glass beach album was self-released midway through 2019 and got picked up by Run For Cover Records by the end of the year. The Massachusetts label made a name for itself in the 2010s by releasing pop-punk mainstays like Citizen’s Youth and Turnover’s Peripheral Vision. But in the last few years, the focus has shifted to more indie unknowns and upstarts from all over North America. The loud angst of their standout albums was left behind for the twangy emo of Runnner, the pleasant pop of Mini Trees, and the frenetic cacophony of glass beach.

Much like its predecessor, the latest album by glass beach is a bombastic LP that refuses to pigeonhole the band to any one subculture. It’s too smart to be simply nth wave emo, too angular to be just indie rock, and too what-the-fuck to be anything else. If we’re splitting hairs, you could loosely throw glass beach in the math rock camp, but not every song gets as noodly as the style dictates. There’s an argument for post-rock, but that doesn’t really apply to the more aggressive moments. On first listen to either album, it would be easy to assume the band is just throwing ideas at walls for parts of every song and seeing how much they can peel off in one sitting. But for the most part, it all feels pretty intentional, each song its own alternative suite.

After a five-year gap, intent is the name of the glass beach game. Album opener “coelacanth” is six and a half minutes of full-force emo prog, like if Between The Buried And Me were a new Topshelf Records signee. From the spoken word intro to the first droney moments of vocals to what sounds like a xylophone-led bridge, this is exactly the type of song that forces you to understand that glass beach are not students of convention. It ascends to a scaley, arpeggiated guitar passage over classic emo horns that sounds like what would happen if you played songs by Protest The Hero and American Football at the same time. The track ends with offbeat music stabs that could have been a coda to a ‘90s noise rock track.

“motions” follows with a more compact and direct version of this unique style, pumped up in the way only glass beach can make it, like if The Dismemberment Plan wrote an anime theme song. “Reveal the underbelly, I hollow out your shell. I spiral in dark matter, I’m so sick of going through the motions.” A sentiment that can be shared by many, though if I have one consistent criticism throughout the album, it’s that “Classic” j’s vocals are sometimes a bit too underperformed and slurred in their delivery, undercutting the lyrics’ potential impact. The composition of these songs are fiendishly creative; it would have pushed this thing the extra mile to have a more defined lead vocal on tracks like this or the Slaughter-Beach-Dog-in-space-style balladry of “guitar song.”

Additionally, I can’t say the metal breakdowns on songs like “slip under the door” or “commatose” don’t stand out in a bit of an awkward way, but they’re thankfully not peppered in often. These heavy moments aren’t used as a crutch or a gimmick; just like everything else on plastic death it’s clear that glass beach have a vast understanding (and appreciation) of many different styles, it’s just some they pull off better than others.

People in the seventies used to think there were hidden satanic messages if you played Led Zeppelin records backward. I don’t think there’s any hedonistic undertones on “rare animal,” but its intro riff sounds like a honky tonk country single played too fast in reverse, which gives it a ton of personality. The track is a standout moment for me, with the band locking into an air-tight groove throughout the explosive, post-Vaudevillian-space rock melodies and top-notch, multi-part vocal layering. A perfect choice for a single, as it does the best job of presenting all of glass beach’s capabilities in one piece.

plastic death is brickwalled with strange bangers, and I think “puppy” is the album’s crown jewel. This song has j’s strongest delivery on the entire LP, paired with a top-notch guitar riff that sounds like a lost alternative gem from the late ‘90s repurposed for a hyperpop track twenty years later. The lyrics appear to be from the canine’s perspective, making this one ripe for replay to grasp its feelings. “Hold your hands in between the bars, and I’ll lick your palms and bite your fingernails. Hold your hand in between the bars, and I’ll just lay here so effortlessly still.” Talking more about intent, it clearly wasn’t unplanned to have this lead into one of the album’s softest cuts, “the killer.” If this were anywhere else in the tracklisting, it may have been easy to gloss over due to the bulk of the collection. The song’s string arrangements are a wonderful addition that make the album seem as grand as possible.

This mid-album trilogy of songs ends with lead single “the CIA,” a track that leans a bit post-punk in the verses before bursting into a cosmic math-pop chorus. Like “motions,” if you were to condense plastic death down to a few introductory tracks, this feels like an obvious one to display. It’s interesting to have some of the more straightforward songs bundled towards the back half (as “straightforward” as an album like this can be), but it would be against the glass beach code to make an expected sequence.

In the album’s final leg, we get “200,” which I can only describe as yachtgaze. Smooth and slightly jazzy verses get dispersed around a heavy guitar chorus before a bridge that feels like an Andrew Lloyd Weber-meets-Coheed And Cambria crescendo. That theatrical intermission is only the suffocating lead-in to the penultimate “commatose,” which runs just shy of ten minutes. It’s at this moment we finally hear the album’s lyrical namesake, j passionately delivering: “Plastic death, plastic death, suck the marrow ‘til there’s nothing left.” During this section, the song moves into some absolutely head-spinning instrumental territory, like an Alan Parsons-produced breakcore track. The second half of the song leans a bit more reserved, eventually fading out into a wide soundscape. Even with its two defined movements and a nearly double-digit runtime, the track doesn’t feel overblown at all from the sum of its parts.

Album closer “abyss angel” begins as a gorgeous piano ballad with the second-place standout lead vocal across the entire tracklisting. It’s a tender moment of respite from the overwhelming pummel of the songs before it, evolving into the most Thom Yorke-esque recording so far. The performance itself from the entire band is quite good, although I don’t know if I personally needed another six-minute technical journey to cap off an album full of similar cuts. After the epic “commatose” preceding it, I think the final moments of vocals, piano, and ambience would have been better suited to be the last drive from this thing.

glass beach’s most impressive qualities fall into two crucial criteria. First, regardless of whether you like everything the band is capable of, they have undeniably crafted a sound that is all their own. You can easily tell what their influences are, but once they mix them all together, there’s not a single group that sounds like them. It’s the hard individualistic work that helped artists from Frank Zappa to Twitching Tongues stay instantly recognizable in any lineup of contemporaries. Second, plastic death is not an overreach by any imagination. glass beach isn’t writing outside their capabilities or creating a braggadocious album to shame any band that can’t deliver the same way. The sonic fusions don’t feel lazy or half-baked, but calculated and genuine. Sure, I can’t say that I’m in love with every experiment or idea for the entire hour it’s on, but I can feel the work that was put into it, which is what makes plastic death the ultimate feat that it is.

Logan Archer Mounts once almost got kicked out of Warped Tour for doing the Disturbed scream during a band’s acoustic set. He currently lives in Rolling Meadows, IL, but tells everyone he lives in Palatine.

Swim Into The Sound's 10 Favorite Albums of 2023

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2023 was a year of long-simmering change for me and, I imagine, many other people. This year, I moved across the country, turned 30, moved again, fell deeper in love, made noticeable strides in my physical and mental health, met a ton of new friends, and listened to a ton of new music. Now that I find myself at the tail end of the year, I can genuinely say that I changed and re-shaped my life more than I ever thought possible in a 365-day window. Not only that, but I find myself excited for whatever comes next. 

I’m a creature of habit, so this is all very frightening to be so unmoored yet so fulfilled. Ultimately, habits are just coping mechanisms: little things we do to make our lives easier or simpler or faster. So, while it’s been a little scary to feel disconnected from so many routines I’ve built up over the course of three decades, sometimes what you really need is to wipe the slate clean and build something new from scratch. While I still consider myself a creature of habit, I’m also a creature of tradition, which is far more fun. 

This has long been my favorite time of the year, a season full of traditions big and small. Of celebrations inside and out there. Of gifts and gestures both for strangers and the ones you love. As a big, dumb music nerd, one of my favorite long-standing traditions is the concept of “list season.”

Sure, I’ve complained about it in previous years, but there’s something so fun and celebratory about reaching the end of the year and seeing everyone share Topsters and notes app lists and last.fm charts and little blurbs about albums they liked this year. Even though these things are often numbered or ordered in some way, I find it to be a meaningful practice that’s less about competition and more about community. 

This is the season when we all look back, reflect, and elevate the art that connected with us most throughout the year, all in hopes that it might connect with someone else. “Here are the things that I loved. What did you love?” It’s an exchange in the best way possible because everyone involved wins. We get to bond over this mutual appreciation for art, you can turn people onto your favorite releases, discover new music yourself, and support artists, all in the same month-long celebration. 

I’ve already written about my favorite songs of the year, a list that also exists in both condensed and chronological playlist forms. Additionally, our staff shared their favorite albums of the year in an expansive round-up that also touches on the growth the blog has seen this year. Swim Into The Sound has never had a year as consistently great as 2023, and if you’re reading this, you’re to thank for that. Thanks for caring, thanks for exploring, and thanks for supporting in any way you can. 

You probably don’t need me to tell you, but 2023 was also a year of mass instability. It’s a frustrating, helpless, and scary time to be alive, but in the best moments, everything feels worth it. Being here with all of you, at the same time as all of this art, even just for a little while, is an absolute blessing. What follows are ten of my favorite albums of the year, I hope you find something to love in them the way I have.

10 | Slow Pulp – Yard

Anti

In many ways, Yard is Slow Pulp’s actual debut album. After a string of awesome EPs and one-off singles, 2020’s Moveys was tragically kneecapped by the pandemic. While some (like myself) still found the time to love that record, it couldn’t have released at a worse time for a young band on the brink of a promising ascent. That’s why it felt so good to see Yard roll out to exponential praise and hype, earning the band the kind of accolades, tours, and acknowledgments they deserved all along. Beginning with a string of absolutely knockout singles (hard-charging “Cramps,” the semi-charmed singalong “Doubt,” and the scintillating summer anthem “Slugs”) one by one, the band introduced themselves to the masses and gave people a reason to care about what they were building towards. The whole collection of songs is just as phenomenal: 30 minutes of ultra-catchy indie rock perfection, where each cut stands alone as a triumphant declaration. Yard is proof that perseverance pays off. 


9 | Horse Rider – Real Melody

Chillwavve Records

There are a ton of bands I could compare Horse Rider to: waveform, Alex G, Soccer Mommy, hell, even fellow horse band Horse Jumper of Love. While I make all those comparisons positively, at the end of the day, they do a disservice to just how awesome, original, and downright catchy Horse Rider’s music is. Sure, hints and suggestions of those bands can be heard wafting through the group’s style of slicked-back slacker rock, but throw a dart at any song off Real Melody, and you’re guaranteed to hear a would-be radio rock hit in a more just alternate dimension. The opener, “Goldeen,” sparkles to life while adding an essential contribution to the longstanding tradition of Pokémo. A couple of tracks later, the band presents “Hollow,” where they rock back and forth on the song’s title as lead singer Lamberth Carsey sings, “When you’re hollow,” and repeats it until the phrase burrows itself into your brain. The whole record is full of short, simplistic turns of phrase swaddled in immaculate melodies and killer riffs, making for an intoxicating blend of emo, nu-gaze, slowcore, and 90s worship. Bonus points for having what’s probably the single coolest album cover of the year.


8 | Superviolet – Infinite Spring

Lame-O Records

Infinite Spring is a cosmic reset of epic proportions. For one thing, it’s Steve Ciolek’s first album following the dissolution of his previous band, The Sidekicks, but within the music too, we hear tales of people who are either coping with or actively embracing change. The record begins with angels falling to Earth and ends with a sort of cataclysmic leveling. The jaw-dropping closing track starts with acoustic fingerpicking but gradually builds to pounding drums, a soaring guitar solo, a big sing-along group chant, and wordless autotuned vocalizations. Everything that happens in between those points is just life. Long-distance relationships, fake people, real emotions, and what it feels like to lose someone forever. It’s heartbreaking, catchy, and all incredibly written. Even with a new band and a new name, Steve Ciolek excels in portraying these slice-of-life stories about people who have always been there and will always be there, shining through like a spring day that never ends. 


7 | saturdays at your place – always cloudy

No Sleep Records

Some people are militant about what can go on an album of the year list. Common sense would dictate that “album of the year” means shorter-form releases like EPs and splits are excluded, but is that how anyone listens to music? Do you separate your love for a 20-minute collection of music and hold it differently than you would a 40-minute collection of music? Can you not enjoy one more than the other for entirely different reasons? Enough leading questions. always cloudy may be an EP on paper, but it contains the arc, heft, and impact of any other “full-length” collection of songs released this year, and it does so in just 19 minutes. 

The EP kicks off with “future,” a time-traveling introduction that quickly builds into an explosive little dance instrumental. From there, “fetch” gallops directly into “tarot cards,” the band’s biggest hit and one of my favorite songs of the year. The back half of the EP continues to explore different moods and tempos within the band’s style, all mounting to “eat me alive,” the leave-it-all-on-the-floor closer that feels like the band wringing out every last ounce of energy they have into their performance. It leaves you breathless, almost as if you’re watching the band from the pit, covered in sweat and beer under the multi-colored lights. As an EP that was dropped in January, I feel lucky to have spent all year with these songs, and November’s split with Shoplifter and Summerbruise was just the cherry on top. If this is what the future of emo looks like, we’re in safe hands. 


6 | Bully – Lucky for You

Sub Pop Records

Another artist with a pandemic redemption story, Bully’s 2020 release, SUGAREGG, was yet another case of an excellent record that was unfairly swallowed up by the time suck of global catastrophe. That album was a fun, refreshing pump-up full of brash pop-punk, but this year’s Lucky For You takes everything to the next level. Alicia Bognanno has been honing her brand of Nashville-born punk rock for a decade, and on her fourth LP, she manages to reach the absolute pinnacle. Lucky For You is a whirlwind of life, loss, and love. As I’ve talked about before, the whole thing has strong last-day-of-school energy, springing to action with a brash and carefree energy. That’s a relief since the album deals with some pretty heavy topics. Primarily inspired by the loss of Bognanno’s beloved dog Mezzi, the album centers around the idea of companionship and navigating a world where change is often thrust upon you. 

From the scream-along singles like “Days Move Slow” and “Hard to Love” to the Soccer Mommy-assisted “Lose You,” these songs are a reminder that sometimes the best way to roll with the punches is my leaning into them with a stiff upper lip and breezy optimism. Kill ‘em with a smile, right? Alternatively, the closing one-two punch of “Ms. America” and “All This Noise” lay the spectrum out in full, touching on women’s rights, climate change, and our media’s endless cycle of disaster. The world is a harsh, unfair place with systems in place designed specifically to grind us down and keep us there, but with Bognanno shouting in my ear, I feel like we might actually have a fighting chance. 


5 | Ratboys – The Window

Topshelf Records

2023 was the year of the rat. Okay, technically it wasn’t, but it definitely was the year of the Ratboys. The Chicago rockers have been kicking up dust and serving up twang for over a decade, coming to perfect a style of music that has only recently seemed to gain traction with a wider audience. This boon is primarily due to the TikTok-fueled popularity of bands like Pinegrove and Slaughter Beach Dog, combined with the coolness of heavier/artsier counterparts like Wednesday and Squirrel Flower. All the while, Ratboys have been painting their own distinct corner of this landscape with broad, vibrant strokes. On The Window, Ratboys come together for the first time as a four-piece to explore every possible speed, style, and variation of their Chigagoan spin on wagon wheel rock. First, the band loosens up their limbs and makes some noise, then proceeds to vault from joyous exclamations (“It’s Alive!”) to heartfelt declarations of love (“The Window” and “I Want You”), all performed and sequenced to flow like a stream. It’s so beautiful and natural you don’t even question it. These explorations are tethered by crystal clear production courtesy of Chris Walla. The Window is a capital-R record, an LP meant to be held, listened to attentively, and taken in deeply. Ratboys are masters of their domain, and we’re lucky to reside within it. 


4 | Phony – Heater

Counter Intuitive Records

Is it on the nose to name your 21-minute pop-punk record “Heater”? It’s bold at the very least, but thankfully, Neil Berthier has the songs to back it up. I talk about it much more extensively in my review, but the sheer velocity of this record can’t be understated. It’s non-stop forward momentum cut in half by one solitary interlude. The LP rockets forward with the kind of self-assured coolness found on Bleed American or Nothing Feels Good, evoking a sort of emo/pop-punk hybrid that feels anything but derivative. Perhaps it’s Berthier’s voice, which can hit a throat-shredding bark or recoil into a sheepish emo whine, depending on what the song calls for. Maybe it’s the instrumentals which spring forward and shoot by like flashes from another life. Blink at any point during your listen, and you might miss one of the incredible riffs or Neil’s disaffected (but astute) observations. With each song hovering around the two-minute mark, it’s easy to find yourself on the album’s extraordinary Weezer-esque closing track thinking, “It’s over already?” The brilliance of Heater comes not just from the brevity, but from how much Berthier is able to pack into these tracks. There’s not a wasted word, strum, or beat in these songs, and the result is a chemically perfect pop-punk record.


3 | Hotline TNT – Cartwheel

Third Man Records

The sophomore album from Hotline TNT has a lot going for it: a string of excellent EPs and records preceding it, an iconic, memeable album cover, a Wednesday co-sign, and the backing of Jack White’s Third Man Records. Perhaps most importantly, this album has songs. Here’s the recipe for the ideal Cartwheel listening experience: First, make sure you have half an hour to yourself, then start the album from the top, and play it LOUD as you can possibly stomach. From its first moments, Cartwheel casts a shoegaze spell on the listener with jangly guitar strums that evoke the 90s dreaminess of Lush and the playful innovation of TAGABOW in equal measure. The band settles into a series of songs that morph and change from one to the next, but all fit together seamlessly. In a way, I’ve found it hard to write anything articulate or insightful about Cartwheel beyond just some variation of “it rocks” over and over again. It is truly an album that is best experienced, loud, live, and in one shot. There’s been much to do over the state of shoegaze in 2023, and as a fan of the genre, even I’ll admit a lot of these modern bands sound like AI-generated heaviness created by the most swaggless posers of all time, but Hotline TNT are the real deal, and the proof is right here. 


2 | Wednesday – Rat Saw God

Dead Oceans

If you were to ask me to imagine an album at the intersection of country music and shoegaze, Rat Saw God is how I hope it would sound. The fifth album from Wednesday is a near-perfect melding of these two genres that actually have more in common than one might initially think. Turns out that the dejected heaviness of shoegaze and the forlorn nature of country make for great bedfellows. 

Back in 2021, Twin Plagues knocked me on my ass, simultaneously comforting me and telling me to toughen up at a time when I desperately needed both of those things. The record captivated me and beckoned me deeper into Wednesday’s universe of southern fried shoegaze. Through this journey, I discovered MJ Lenderman, Drop of Sun Studios, Alex Farrar, and the band’s impressive scene of peers/touring partners. So, with a couple years of hardcore nerding out under my belt, it’s safe to say that Rat Saw God was my most anticipated record of the year, and it almost unilaterally lived up to the hype. 

The seeds of Rat were first planted in 2022 with “Bull Believer,” the album’s titanic 8-minute lead single, which should only be described with words like “scorching,” “seismic,” and “apocalyptic.” Already a classic within the band’s catalog, “Bull Believer” has become a staple closer of the band’s live sets and is the type of song only Wednesday could make. It was smart to let fans sit with that 8-minute behemoth for a few months because once 2023 started, the Wednesday train was approaching full speed. 

One by one, the band dropped one fantastic single after another, all leading up to the album’s April release date. “Chosen to Deserve” brought the poppy singalong side of the band’s sound to life while the lyrics painted a picture of a semi-reformed dirtbag southern girl, an under-represented audience in music, to say the least. “Bath County” packs biblical imagery, a drug overdose, a trip to Dollywood, and a Drive-By Truckers namedrop in between a bit of clever sloganeering as bandleader Karly Hartzman bemoans, “Every daughter of God has a little bad luck sometimes.” The singles continued with “Quarry” and “TV in the Gas Pump,” each paired with inventive music videos that further fleshed out the visual side of Wednesday’s homespun world. 

This all happened alongside handmade merch, a worldwide tour, monthly video dairies, contributions to compilations, and a 30-minute documentary by the band’s friend, Zach Romeo. Suffice it to say there was no shortage of Wednesday-related entertainment to keep fans satisfied, and I was here for all of it. Not only was Rat Saw God a knockout album from a band I already adored, but it was finally netting this band the kind of support and adoration they’d long deserved. 

As I mentioned in the intro, I moved twice this year, and in a sort of cosmic coincidence, one of those moves brought me to North Carolina, a state I’d never once considered living in until this year. Back in 2018, I made a similar life-altering move to Detroit, and as funny as it sounds, the music of Sufjan Stevens was there, convincing me that was where I was meant to be. Now, a similar thing has happened to me with Wednesday. To find myself in this unfamiliar part of the country with my longstanding love for this artist as my sole touchpoint. It felt like something was always pulling me out there, and Wednesday’s music was just the tip of the iceberg. 

Earlier this year, I was reading John Darnielle’s excellent Devil House, and at one point, he penned the phrase “Freeway detritus eternal,” which I couldn’t get out of my head. If I were to boil down the essence of Wednesday to three words, it might be those. On this record, we hear salt of the earth tales of people living life the best way they know how. The highways stretch on for miles and pass by burnt-out fast food restaurants, dilapidated roadside attractions, and commercial parking lots all the same. There’s no value judgment passed on these places or their inhabitants, merely an attempt to portray them in an accurate and empathetic light in order to share their stories with a wider audience. All you have to do is hit play on the album, inhale the stench of hot, rotten grass, grab another beer from the cooler, and kick back as the fuzzy riffs roll over you. 


1 | Talking Kind – It Did Bring Me Down

Lauren Records

There are only about 27 minutes of music on the debut record from Talking Kind. That’s a grand total of 1,634 seconds, and I love every single one of them. I’ve spent the last four months absolutely absorbed in It Did Bring Me Down. I’ve sung along to the chorus of “Damn Shame” while making a hearty Sunday breakfast. I’ve ruminated on spaghetti and death while memorizing every detail of “Pretty Flowers.” I’ve shared a clandestine smoke with my girlfriend on her balcony while blasting “Trader,” only to rock out a moment later headbanging along to “My Truck.” These are just a few glimpses into the beautiful moments I’ve experienced with this album. These tracks have embedded themselves deep in my psyche, offering the perfect balance of funny witticisms, harsh realities, and impeccable memories. Let’s wind it back just a half step. 

Talking Kind is the (mostly) solo project of Pat Graham. You might know him from his work in the fourth-wave underdogs Spraynard or Lame-O y'allternative band Big Nothing, but neither project is required homework for Talking Kind. The way I’ve been explaining this album to friends, colleagues, or really anyone who will listen is to imagine a cross between MJ Lenderman, Slaughter Beach Dog, and Barenaked Ladies. A friend of mine suggested I add The Weakerthans to that mix, but to me, that triad of artists offers the perfect indication of what kind of music you’re going to get with It Did Bring Me Down. 

Just take the album’s opening track, where Graham utilizes a guest feature from Radiator Hospital and The Goodbye Party to explain the band's name. Or take “Never Bored,” a cautionary tale about what can happen when the dirtbag lifestyle catches up with you. There’s power-pop perfection on songs like “Brand New Face,” which is followed by one of the year's best love songs, then a crushingly sad lo-fi cover of a Radioactivity song. Elsewhere you have an unforgettable, star-making melody on “Damn Shame” and a track that name-checks fellow Philly musician Greg Mendez for a funny little closer to the year’s best album. 

There’s no grand narrative, complicated lore, or months-long music-video-based rollout to keep track of with this record, just a collection of eleven stellar songs that all speak for themselves. It’s felt like literal magic to have been making memories to these songs for the last four months, and I can’t wait to see what other moments they go on to soundtrack in the future. It Did Bring Me Down is plainspoken, clever, empathetic, freewheeling, and kindhearted, all things I hope to be. What better thing to have as my humanistic North Star than my favorite album of the year?

Emo Census 2023

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Back at the end of 2022, I was home for the holidays and found myself in the back seat of the family van, accompanying my parents and our dog on a trip out to the Oregon Coast. Struck with an eerie mixture of nostalgia and childhood restlessness, I decided to surrender to the weird vibes and make a playlist of emo music. 

It was mid-December, peak list season, and as a guy who runs his own little music blog, I was still in the thick of tinkering with my own AOTY list. I spent countless hours considering album placements, refining my Topster, pruning paragraphs, and reading the lists of friends to ensure I didn’t miss anything major. As I considered the shape of my 2022 album of the year list, my mind drifted to emo music, as it often does. It had been an exceptionally notable year for the genre: Pool Kids had come back better than ever, as had Short Fictions, Oso Oso, and Future Teens. Groups like Ben Quad, Sweet Pill, Carly Cosgrove, and Arm’s Length had all released impressive full-length debuts after all coming off promising EPs, splits, and singles. It felt like a bounty, and my mind was swimming with how much fantastic music the scene had been blessed with that year. I made a playlist of every emo album and EP I could think of for the year and organized it just by what I was listening to most at the time. I named this playlist Emo Census 2022, and for months, it proved to be a reliable way to listen to my favorites of the year. 

When 2023 started, I had to ask myself whether I wanted to make a 2023 version of the same playlist. At first, I wanted to wait until December to make it more of a “retrospective” overview of the year, as I did in 2022. Of course, my excitement got the better of me, and by Valentine’s Day, I caved and created an Emo Census playlist for the new year. Sure, I started that new playlist out of excitement, but also because there was music I was afraid I’d have forgotten about by the end of the year. Not because they were bad or anything, just the way that some January releases are bound to be forgotten eleven months later, it’s just the nature of our brains; we can only hold so much stuff at once. 

Things were coming out so frequently that, at times, it genuinely felt like there was an exciting new emo project coming out every Friday. Due to the “scale” of this music, it feels like bands and labels can move a little quicker. Standalone singles, splits, and random midweek EPs are all more common in emo/punk/DIY spaces, and that frequency is one of the reasons why I find myself endlessly pulled to the genre; there’s always something to listen to. 

As my playlist ballooned in size throughout 2023, it soon dwarfed the original Emo Census. While last year’s playlist was a hearty 586 songs, clocking in at a respectable 31 hours and 8 minutes, its younger brother is sitting at around double its size, currently weighing in at 1,147 songs and just about 60 hours of total music. That’s a lot, but it’s not meant to be taken in at once. 

Even as our online platforms like Twitter and Bandcamp sat on shakier and shakier ground throughout the year, I found joy in discovering new bands and local scenes, even reuniting with some old friendly faces. I dipped my toe into Zoom Interviews with Ness Lake and Summit Shack, the latter of whom put on Fauxchella VI, which honestly feels like a perfect temperature check of modern emo if you wanted a vivid depiction of how wholesome, communal, and mutually uplifting this entire community is. 

What I’m saying is that I liked emo music this year. I liked riffs, and I liked rockin’ out. And brother? If loving riffs is wrong, then I don’t wanna be right. 

Okay, enough of that guy. 

What I’m actually trying to say is that I’ve had a blast keeping tabs on emo music and pop-punk this year. I spend my days sifting through emails, Bandcamp notifications, Twitter discourse, and Discord slop to find the new music so you don’t have to. 

I’ve shared out my Emo Census 2023 playlist a few times, usually to pretty rousing success, so I think people find this sifting helpful. Even if a lot of this music is redundant or expected or even just okay, I wanted to make a playlist that feels emblematic of where we’re at this year and what I’ve spent my months listening to. It’s far from comprehensive, but I’ve enjoyed making this collection of songs my little project throughout the year. I’ll probably set this playlist down soon in favor of a refreshed 2024 edition, but until then, but until then, it’s been an honor serving in the trenches with you all. 

To every DIY person making music or art or things on their own terms and sharing them with the world, I genuinely thank you. We’re so much stronger together. Same time next year?