In Jean Ryden’s music video for her song “Parallel Universe”, Jean desperately wants the trauma of losing her parents to have never occurred. In the beginning of the song, she replays images of her parents in her mind in black and white, because her past is like an old movie; the happy moments with her parents are covered with feelings of dread. All the color has been depleted from her memories because new movies are symbolic of new, happy memories with her parents being formed. In comparison, the old movies symbolize her happy memories as only in the past
Jean lays in her bed and leans her head to the side, which reflects when she would lean on her parents for support. She is alone in the bed because after her parents passed away, she felt alone and like she had nobody to lean on for support. The camera zooms in on a close-up image of her eyes while she lays in her bed because her eyes are her pathway to all of the loneliness she feels inside.
Color film of a garden with beautiful roses of different shades and a white bird flying above it is representative of her healing from her grief and finding peace. To elaborate, the bird symbolizes her flying because she is freeing herself from the black and white space of her grief.
Images lasting for a few seconds, all of her memories can never be remembered in complete detail, but the most important details remain engraved. The colored images represent her purely happy memories, the black and white images are symbolic of her memories remembered in sadness or trigger her grief, and the partially colored images are memories she is remembering to heal from her grief and sadness.
The same image of her alone, opening and closing her eyes, leaning her head against a wall, in a vacant room, occurring for a few seconds, repeatedly, shows her constant despair. She shuts off all of her memories with or of her parents because she goes into a state of depression, which she is constantly battling to escape from.
The video ends with her sitting in a dark room with candles and a black sky lit with bright stars. Images are played in quick seconds against Jean’s soft, melodic voice, which has a deeply sad tone on its edges along with hints of desperation. Her voice also has another tone, that feels like she is going through feelings of clarity.
Once she repeats her memories filled with many different emotions, she must admit that the reality is her parents are in heaven. Therefore, her memories are a “parallel universe.”
A soft electric riff of a guitar atop steady beats of the drum… It is that awfully calming but lingering aura that really sets this unsettlement within me. A constant motion that desires more. Curling‘s “URDoM” wraps me in its embrace, and I’m overwhelmed by a torrent of emotions.
“URDoM” thrives in its ability to evoke emotions without explicitly stating them. The production elements, such as the subtle layering of instruments and the careful balance between instrumentation and vocals, contribute to the song’s immersive quality. The minimalist yet well-crafted approach allows the listener to interpret and connect with the music in their own unique way. The song’s musical layers are carefully woven together, allowing each instrument to contribute to the overall mood. Distant echoes and subtle reverberations, add depth to the atmosphere, immersing the listener in a reflective space.
Throughout the track, the dynamics build and recede, creating a sense of tension and release that mirrors the emotional rollercoaster the song portrays. The instrumental and vocal synergy reaches its peak during the climactic moments, eliciting a cathartic release that draws the listener deeper into the narrative. The composition’s aural palette leans towards a fusion of alternative and ambient elements, creating a space that is both introspective and ethereal. The instrumentation, consisting of subtle guitar work, restrained percussion, and atmospheric synth layers, works in harmony to evoke a sense of inner struggle and self-exploration.
In the end, “URDoM” isn’t just a song – it’s an emotional journey. It’s a mirror that shows me my own complexities, my own struggles. It’s a reminder that we’re not alone in our battles, that music can hold our hands as we navigate the stormy seas of the heart. Curling’s creation isn’t just a song; it’s a lifeline, a chance to find solace in the shared human experience. And as the last note fades, I’m left with a profound sense of connection, a realization that I’m not alone in feeling alone.
North American Tour Dates ^ = w/ Nation of Language 8/11: Portland, OR @ Fixin’ To 8/12: Portland, OR @ Revolution Hall ^ 8/13: Portland, OR @ Gloomhouse 8/14: Vancouver, BC @ Rickshaw Theater ^ 8/16: Grass Valley, CA @ Unchuch 8/17: Upland, CA @ Hyrule Temple 8/18: Oakland, CA @ Oakland Secret 8/19: Seattle, WA @ Central Saloon 8/20: Centralia, WA @ Space Place House
“Give Me My Halo” by Yonaka is a real gem of a song that hits you right in the feels. It’s all about finding your inner strength, breaking free from the shackles of your past, and owning your true self. It dives deep into the struggles and desires we all face on our journey to personal growth and self-acceptance.
From the moment the song starts, listeners are captivated by the pulsating rhythm. The melody rises and falls, creating a sense of anticipation and reflecting the emotional highs and lows that the lyrics delve into. It’s a sonic journey that pulls listeners in and keeps them hooked until the very end.
But the chorus, oh boy, it’s the heart of the song. “Let hell rain down on my life and allow me to grow. Burn away the parts you don’t like, I don’t care anymore. I wanna feel untouchable.” These words hit hard. They strike a chord deep within, stirring up a whirlwind of emotions. They express a desire to transcend the limitations imposed by society, to break free from self-doubt and insecurity. It’s an anthem of empowerment that inspires individuals to embrace their inner strength and stand tall in the face of adversity.
The bridge brings it home with a beautiful metaphor. “When the tide comes crashing in and I’ve got nothing left to give, will you deem me fit to swim and will you water me?” It’s like asking for support when you’re at your lowest, hoping someone will believe in you and help you keep going. We’ve all been there, and it’s comforting to hear it put into words.
As the song progresses, the intensity of the beat and the emotional depth of the lyrics intertwine, creating a profound musical experience. The combination of Yonaka’s passionate vocals and the driving instrumentals evokes a sense of liberation and encourages listeners to embrace their authenticity.
In a nutshell, “Give Me My Halo” is a song that speaks to our inner struggles and aspirations. It’s about finding strength, embracing our true selves, and asking for support when we need it most. It’s a reminder to break free, rise above, and shine with our own unique light. So go ahead, crank up the volume, and let this song resonate deep within your soul.
Xadi‘s “Black Rock” EP is a captivating musical journey that delves into dark ambiance, effortlessly blending catchy and chill elements. With its personal anecdotes and explorations of drug usage, Xadi weaves a tapestry of experiences that transcends racial boundaries, touching the hearts of listeners from all walks of life.
The EP’s main track, aptly titled “Black Rock,” stands out as a powerful statement that challenges preconceived notions about the relationship between music and race. The quote, “I didn’t know that music had a [sic] colour,” encapsulates the essence of this song and its overarching message. Xadi’s ability to create a sonic landscape that resonates with anyone and everyone, irrespective of their racial background, is truly remarkable.
The EP opens with a dark and haunting aura that immediately sets the tone for the introspective journey ahead. The production values are top-notch, showcasing Xadi’s skill in creating atmospheric soundscapes that immerse the listener. The combination of electronic elements, ethereal vocals, and carefully crafted beats creates a hypnotic experience that draws you in from the very first note.
One of the EP’s greatest strengths lies in its catchiness. Despite exploring deep and personal themes, Xadi manages to infuse the tracks with memorable hooks and melodies that stick with you long after the music ends. This balance between introspection and accessibility is a testament to Xadi’s artistry and ability to create music that can be enjoyed by a wide range of listeners.
“Black Rock” is also an EP filled with personal anecdotes and adventures. Xadi’s storytelling ability shines through as he shares his experiences with drug addiction, painting vivid pictures of struggle, redemption, and personal growth. The lyrics are thought-provoking and introspective, inviting listeners to reflect on their own lives and experiences.
As a black British music artist, Xadi brings a unique perspective to his music. While the EP addresses themes that are deeply rooted in his personal journey, the emotions and messages conveyed have a universal appeal. Xadi’s artistry transcends racial boundaries, touching upon shared human experiences that resonate with anyone willing to listen and empathize.
As Italian singer-songwriter Alice Bisi revs up for the release of her third LP, her new track “Hyperdrive” gives a taste of a new direction for the alt-pop artist. Though Bisi, or Birthh, is based in Brooklyn, her music sounds as though it originates from the fourth dimension, cleverly using synths and fast tempos to transport listeners through musical wormholes.
It’s hard to believe that the high-octane “Hyperdrive” started out as a slow ballad. When Birthh was having trouble perfecting the song to her liking, she enlisted the help of her trusted co-producer London O’Connor. After a year of tweaking in the studio, “Hyperdrive” morphed into an upbeat, euphoric depiction of Birthh’s inner world and dreams. The verses are poetic in nature, with such lyrics as “I’ll chase your face, to infinity and beyond” and “spinning round, galactic dancer”, as the speaker experiences a whirlwind romance with hopes of reciprocation from the beloved.
This track keeps the listener on its toes, constantly adding new layers and advancing the intergalactic journey through Birthh’s heart. After the verse, the chorus shifts into the titular “Hyperdrive” mode, with rhythmic variation, a denser musical texture, and an earworm of a melody. The synths, percussion, and high-pitched strings interact with the vocal samples in a bouncing vortex of musical interest. The closing portion introduces a slew of new aspects, with piano chords interrupted by vocal samples of other voices besides Birthh’s, as though it leads into another track. As of now, we can only speculate what might come next.
Birthh’s anticipated Moonlanded album is set to release on September 1 and is now available for preorder. Moonlanded is sure to be an epic ride, chronicling Birthh’s emotions around her birthplace in Italy all the way to her new home in Brooklyn. Meanwhile, stream “Hyperdrive” on all platforms and check out Birthh’s backlist of songs.
Can’t wait for Moonlanded? Give “Hyperdrive” a listen while you’re waiting!
Get ready to be swept away by Winterlark‘s newest EP, You Send Me A Photograph. This indie folk sensation is back with a collection of tunes that will tug at your heartstrings. From soulful melodies to lyrics that hit you right in the feels, Winterlark takes you on a musical adventure exploring love, memories, and those unforgettable snapshots of life.
Winterlark’s EP You Send Me A Photograph is a mesmerizing journey that transports listeners to a world of ethereal beauty. With their intricate compositions and hauntingly delicate vocals, Winterlark creates an immersive sonic landscape that lingers long after the last note fades.
The EP’s six tracks weave together elements of indie folk and dream pop, resulting in a sublime blend of introspection and enchantment. Each song is a captivating vignette, filled with evocative imagery and introspective lyrics that delve into the depths of love, loss, and the bittersweet moments of life.
From the haunting opening track to the poignant finale, Winterlark’s musicianship shines brightly. The intricate layers of strums and pizzicatos intertwine flawlessly, creating a rich tapestry of sound that envelops the senses. The duo’s harmonies are nothing short of spellbinding, evoking a sense of gentleness and emotional resonance that resonates deeply with the listener.
You Send Me A Photograph is an EP that demands to be experienced in its entirety, as each song seamlessly flows into the next, guiding the listener on a cathartic and introspective journey. Winterlark’s ability to capture raw emotions and distill them into captivating melodies is a testament to their artistry and musicianship. This EP is a true gem, destined to captivate both devoted fans and newcomers alike with its vintage beauty and heartfelt expression.
Baby Got Back Talk’s G’Ra’s calm tone of voice as he sings, “Stop right there and don’t you dare tell me that I’m wrong,” in his song “I’m Sorry I’m a Moron, But Also, Help,” reveals he is coping with people talking down to him in a calm and collected manner. However, his lyrics contradict his tone of voice because he is direct and strong-willed. As revealed by the phrase “don’t you dare,” he is expressing anger and a barrier he puts up before anyone can tell him that he is wrong, which will emotionally scar him.
His lyrics further indicate that he has been told that he is wrong once or many times before. Thus, he is attempting to hide his pain through his tone when confronting people who he feels could scar him emotionally but wrote his lyrics when he was feeling emotional. If you listen to his lyrics, not his tone of voice, you will feel his pain.
G’Ra continues singing in a similar tone as he sings, “I’m a loss, an albatross, who dropped the baton.” He becomes vulnerable as he explains that he feels like a lost bird, as an albatross is a type of bird. Saying that he “dropped the baton” reveals he feels that while he is flying in his career, he has lost his ability to keep calm and in control emotionally because he is releasing all of his emotions into his lyrics. He feels he must keep a calm demeanor as he struggles to hold back revealing his true emotions.
Hope builds up like our protagonist is metaphorically climbing a mountain, with feelings of passion and excitement, as he sings “‘Till the hallway’s bathed in moonlight, and you saunter in and it always made me think twice when I am wandering.” Singing of bathing in the moonlight is depicting him bathing in hope.
As he wanders in this moonlight, he thinks twice about his friendships and becomes the moonlight, allowing him to be a shining light above other people. As he becomes the moonlight, he encounters people from different backgrounds. “Against all the odds,” as he sings, he is able to integrate himself with people who are unlike him. He continues to persevere to learn about other types of people until all the odds are stacked against him. His inability to overcome these odds is temporary, as he “gets his knuckles bruised” from struggling through barriers to be with people who have given him emotional baggage. (As articulated in the lyrics, “Stop right there and don’t you dare tell me that I’m wrong.”)
As the song concludes, it bubbles with excitement and energy. This energy circulates into the stressed emotions of uncertainty and doubt as it uplifts and brings hope to these negative emotions. This entire song fluctuates from feelings of uneasiness and doubt to confidence and hope.
The newly released music video uses tone, color, and shape to evoke the emotions associated with the song. The visual representation is somehow spot on. View it below.
A continuously persistent beat, vulnerable and “voodoo” themes — there is no helping of a looming irony in Big Bliss‘ new single, “Tell Me When You’re Ready.” Big Bliss recently had a new member join, and now the band of three is a trio against all odds.
The new single is a deeply personal one — a sense of struggle, introspection, and a longing for change. There is a desire for a different and better day, indicating a recognition that something needs to change in life. It is that awful but important first step of recognizing change is needed, and it is in that recognition that there is hope for change to come.
For one, the beat cycles through and through, creating a numbing and nauseating effect not exactly being in the present. It’s a fever dream. The line “Make an effort or pretend that I don’t know why I’m so tired” suggests a feeling of weariness and a possible attempt to deny or ignore the underlying reasons behind it. It is so deeply profound because in that state, there is still an overpowering draw to force everything negative back and create a facade in front of not just everyone, but oneself, too.
My personal favorite line — the repeated phrase “I have a name for it now” implies that the speaker has finally identified or labeled their struggles or emotions. The internal battle between wanting to escape and the awareness that there might be a name, a diagnosis for these feelings, reflects the complexity of navigating one’s mental and emotional well-being. This newfound awareness signifies a step towards confronting and addressing one’s issues directly.
As the song progresses, there is an intangible feeling of both hope and uncertainty. There is finally acknowledgment of the possibility for a better future, fueled by the anticipation of new innovations and potential solutions. However, they also express hesitation in vocalizing the true nature of their struggle, perhaps due to fear of judgment or stigmatization. The imagery of being intoxicated and alone, while experiencing a warm glow in their spine, captures the contradictory emotions that can arise from seeking temporary relief amidst internal turmoil.
Though on the surface “TMWYR” is addressing the struggle to sobriety, Tim Race comments that his “example is addiction, but ultimately TMWYR is about the experience of confronting fear and letting a desperate search for ‘what’s missing’ end.” It applies to everyone because we’re all human. We fear, we struggle, and most importantly, we perceive the world around us with utmost importance. We all have shared adversity. It’s just a matter if there are those who have the strength to speak about it and empower the rest of us, and that’s exactly what Big Bliss has done to me — “TMWYR” is a powerful anthem, encapsulating the human experience of grappling with fear, searching for fulfillment, and ultimately finding the resilience to confront our inner demons. It is that lighthouse in the harbor for me, and I hope you find it as confoundingly eye-opening as I did.
Niall Connolly has never shied away from his own artistry. In listening to his repertoire you’re unlikely to sense reluctance. Instead, the folk singer rushes headlong into his music, laying his soul bare for the world to witness. “In this house, if you wanna cry, you can cry,” he sings on his latest album, The Patience of Trees, out June 2. And with a shuddering breath, we believe him.
The Irish-born troubadour has been a steady presence in the New York City folk scene, telling his musical stories across the din of nondescript bars and Manhattan’s broad stages alike. At every Connolly gig audiences are ushered into his world of unflinching honesty and disarming resonance. Whether listening to him live or on recording, the listener is wrapped in a strange combination of isolation and warmth, a mix that leaves a profound effect: one of having been held and lonely at the same time. This is Connolly’s unique ability to transform his art into something capable of providing tangible comfort.
The album’s first single, “We Don’t Have to Talk About It”, approaches the topic of self-harm in this same manner. “I know you get tempted by the third rail late at night,” he sings, acknowledging and stripping the power away from one’s demons at the same time. The latest single, “It’s a Beautiful Life,” gives an unrelenting perspective of the struggles many of us endure and, ultimately, the love that attempts to pull us through. The song evokes the painful journey through mental health and offers a unique perspective of the collective’s ability to triumph by giving voice to our experiences.
“Out of the Light” feels like an offering at the altar of Leonard Cohen’s emotional legacy. Thoughtful and serene but also spare in its hints of loneliness as he observes “every kind of messy road that leads to love.” Similarly, “Orchids at the Supermarket” haunts like a Nick Drake ballad, making beauty out of brokenness. Yet despite the gentle presence of such ghosts, the presence of Connolly’s emotionality makes each song the kind of experience that only he can create.
The Patience of Trees is enriched by the presence of Connolly’s friends and collaborators, including Mick Flannery, Anna Tivel, E.W. Harris, Javier Mas, and Warren Malone. The arrangements of each track serve as an echo of their lyrical power, emphasizing the story at the center of each song. Expansively, the songs stretch out across the album to create a rich journey full of remarkable souls and powerful experiences. At once demanding and exquisitely comforting, The Patience of Trees takes us into our own depths and offers us solace.
“The clouds were forming question marks, like the sky was doubting me,” he sings in “A Cloud on the Summer Sun”. “I’ve got every right to be here, as much as everyone.” While his songs take us into the caverns of human struggle, likely to cause the sharp, stabbing breath of resonance as the days, weeks, years of tamping down our emotions burst to the surface, the underlying tenet of Connolly’s work is always hope. Aggressive fucking hope. No longer the lame figment to punk theology. His words and his music welcome us into a world where hope and kindness are the bravest of things. In his house, if we wanna cry, we can cry, but ultimately we will heal.
