Michael Garmany grew up in the Bay Area where he was surrounded with a versatile range of artists including 2Pac, The Clash, and Social Distortion. Now, his own music is a reflection of the music he grew up with. This is evident upon listening to his new track, “Still Missing”.
Layered with elements of funk, R&B and psychedelic pop, the track starts off mild with a simple piano and bass as he sings about wanting something that he isn’t sure he is worthy of having. As the verse progresses, the melodies continue to get catchier. Once the chorus hits, the music speeds up and you’ll find yourself dancing along. The catchiness of the melodies is enhanced by various sonic choices throughout the song. These ear-catching additions, such as bells and hand claps, take the song to new heights. Drawing on personal experiences, Garmany is clear that he has been unable to find a love that works for him. During the more up-tempo portions, it might be easy to forget that he is singing about missing something from his life. With various influences present, it doesn’t sound like “Still Missing” is missing anything.
Michelle Ray channels her rich musical background to produce an electrifying summer bop with her new single “Chasing Shadows.” Growing up in an extremely musical home, Ray had an opera singer manager for a grandmother and a rock band manager for a father. Infusing both classical music and rock ‘n roll into her heart, Ray began classical voice training at age 10 and later performed backing vocals on her Dad’s band’s national tours and opened for their sold-out shows in Japan. As she grew and began to think about her own sound, Ray gravitated towards soul/R&B pop music, finding inspiration in talents like Christina Aguilera, Justin Timberlake, and Bruno Mars. In the past years, she has been honing her skills singing in commercials for Maybelline, Mastercard, JCPenny, Nickelodeon and numerous others, and even found her way onto the fourth season of The Voice.
“Chasing Shadows” isn’t just any old summer anthem, it’s a paradoxical juxtaposition of the beauty of summer against the regretful longing for something that’s no longer there. Ray tells us “’Chasing Shadows’ is about thinking you can see or feel this presence everywhere you go but you can never actually hold it, it’s not tangible, so is it real or just your imagination? Instagram-filtered memories and drive-in movie fantasies melt together as we imagine a love that could save us.” From a sonic perspective, the single has a great groove, Ray’s velvety vocals, and crisp backing harmonies; all the fixins for a feel-good dance track. But her words are filled with hard realizations that add a layer of complexity, something that we often experience ourselves over the summer. It’s like a choose-your-own-adventure: you can blast it through your speakers on a hot summer night, lost in the dream-pop/nu-disco sound, letting the musical vibes ease your mind. Or, you can take a moment of reflection and confront the beautiful and wistful nature of summer. Either way, “Chasing Shadows” shows Ray’s ability to use her long-developed breadth of musical knowledge to her advantage.
In an effort to work through the trauma of a psychologically abusive relationship, Caitlin Pasko offers Greenhouse: nine hauntingly pensive songs that aim to heal the self and move on from past wounds. A greenhouse is a structure that protects plant life from unfavourable external conditions, and in the same way Greenhouse provides a safe space for Pasko’s songs to grow and flourish into understanding and acceptance. The album is deeply involved with the concept of space– both in a metaphorical sense with its title, but also in terms of its sonic atmosphere. All the songs exist suspended in space, and silence works hand-in-hand with language to provide room for Pasko’s thoughts to form and evolve. “Ooo Happy”, a fleeting and chilling mid-album interlude has fourteen seconds of silence at the end before moving on. There are no words in this silence, and yet it speaks volumes. Much of Pasko’s gentle and breathy vocals on this album are delicately supported by sparse accompaniment, but each line carries so much weight. The accompaniment sometimes comes in the form of electronic atmospheres or decorative plucked strings, but most often in the form of ambient piano playing. Pasko’s compositions fully explore the tension between dynamics, tempo, and space, reminding one of Satie or Debussy. Her songs feel liberated from tempo, as her vocals and elegant piano melodies freely move like fantasias. In “Unwell”, the placement of each word and each chord is liberated from any sort of beat, but at the same time is deliberate and effective.
“Unwell” is also the first of a trio of songs on Greenhouse, manifested from Pasko’s walks through Brooklyn in 2017. During these walks she experienced dissociation– a kind of out-of-body sensation where she felt like she was floating above herself, viewing herself from a different point of view. Pasko channels this idea of multiple points of views in “Unwell”, “Mother”, and “Even God.” She crafts parallels in her lyrics between songs, such as when she talks about walking a neighbourhood that isn’t hers in “Unwell” and then sings “Today I remembered what it feels like to go walking on the sidewalk in the city that’s not my city” in “Mother”, the lyrics in both songs spilling over one another, feeling like a wandering thought. “Mother” plays with perspective as well, towards the end she sings “She’s my daughter, I’m her sister, she’s my sister, I’m her mother, she’s my mother” and delves into the idea of becoming a mother herself, with a second voice joining her in harmony when she talks about creative another life. “Even God” is written from the perspective of Pasko’s own mother and recalls Greenhouse’s inspiration: an abusive relationship. “Even God” is about being trauma-bonded to an abusive partner, with the principal lyric “Even God is selfish” playing with the idea that “nobody’s perfect.” About the song, Pasko says “‘You can sleep in / just make the bed’ is me saying, ‘I will put up with these bouts of cruelty, because I know you love me.’ It’s dark. I was sick. I was twisting the truth in order to cope with my reality, and as I started to believe my non-truth, I also turned against my friends who wanted to help me. If I believed them, then I’d have to admit to my own hell.”
So while “Even God” is about Pasko’s relationship with her partner, it’s also about how her situation affected her relationship with her friends, and even herself. Greenhouse documents the dissolution of relationships, romantic, platonic, and familial, all the while developing her ever-evolving connection to herself. “I Know I” uses two part harmony to represent Pasko’s child self and her inner mother, and how they communicate. The lower harmony briefly becomes the lead in the middle of the song, but soon enough returns to its original role, functioning as a metaphor for the conversations that take place between the mind and the heart. We hear this metaphorical harmony in “Mother” as well, when Pasko mulls over the possibility of motherhood for herself. At times, the album highlights relationships in the form of a dichotomy, such as in “Horrible Person.” The deeply reflective nature of the track contradicts its themes of self-abandonment and toxic enmeshment. Therefore, the “horrible person” is not only the abuser, but also the self as seen through someone else’s distorted, narcissistic mirror. Pasko composed the track a cappella, alone in her bed, in the dark, in an attempt to develop a reclamation of personal agency. It became the album’s centerpiece, and uses electronic sounds to create tension but also to depict an underwater chasm. Flickers of sound represent neon diatoms that dart around Pasko, eventually overtaking her right before the song ends in a deafening silence.
“Horrible Person” highlights how an abusive relationship can have reverberations in other parts of someone’s life, and when it’s over you have to remedy that. But a part of healing is confronting what happened and believing one’s own survival story. Pasko rewrites the narrative surrounding her experience in “Quiet Weather” and “To The Leaves.” In “Quiet Weather”, Pasko uses metaphors for herself and her partner to evoke imagery of a lake with still waters, showing her sense of lyrical craftsmanship. She attempts to exhume the past to allow herself to move on, singing “When I think of you I take a shovel to my chest and dig as deep as I can get.” “To The Leaves” is an artistic wonder that stitches together fragmented versions of the self in order to regain a sense of personal identity. With the words “It’s hard to believe that I was ever a peach in the leaves / It’s hard to believe that I was ever that version of me,” Pasko calls to attention how a survivor may gaslight herself into not believing her own experience. The piano gently plays haunting suspended chords that send a shiver down your spine.
The effective chords in “To The Leaves” create one of the scarce moments in the album that evokes emotion. Greenhouse is not emotional, it’s passive and composed. Yet it isn’t devoid of feeling. It’s a document; her words and experiences speak for themselves. In the moments where the piano chords deepen or electronic static takes over the space, they only emphasize the already implicit feelings. We hear this in the closing track, “Intimate Distance,” in which Pasko sings to herself as an act of atonement. The opening piano is unsentimental, but as the song progresses it deepens, at times feeling somber but at other times feeling powerful and majestic. “Intimate Distance” is the final step to moving on for Pasko, she clarifies and makes peace with the pain and love that lie beneath her trauma.
Greenhouse is intricate, intellectual, and complex. But so is the path to healing. By the time we get to “Intimate Distance”, we have seen Pasko face her damage from the past, engage with the possibilities of her future, and deal with all of the complications along the way. Her words are utterly beautiful, and packed with exquisite veiled meaning that would take many listens to fully grasp. From its title to its reserved demeanour that is subtly interwoven with emotion, Greenhouse is an understated work of art that needs to be listened to with willing ears and an open heart.
The eclectic Whoa Dakota’s new single “Walk Right By” is an enlightened look both at the past and the future. Blending together disco with a modern R&B sound, this bop emboldens you to believe that you don’t need anyone besides yourself to reach your full potential. The lyrics are inspired by her experiences with pushy, manipulative business people in the industry who antagonize those around them. “Walk Right By” aims to empower those who listen to it to trust in themselves. The single has a classically funky bassline, infectious danceability, and nostalgic synths that sound like something out of an arcade. It’s far from sounding like an imitation of late 70’s disco music, however. There’s this compelling groovy but chill vibe in the verses that fit in well with the sound of modern R&B music, and atmospheric layers of synths that remind listeners of ambient indie-pop. Whoa Dakota’s stellar vocals are really something else. She effortlessly handles the sultry, smooth vocals in the verses, and the powerful belting in the enthralling chorus that is a perfect sonic representation of self-liberation.
It’s no surprise that this mesmerizing artist has such an innovative grasp on her music as a 2017 Tiny Desk Concert favorite and the “Best Pop Artist” in the Nashville Scene’s Best of Nashville 2018 awards. You can (and should) also check out her “Spill The Tea with Whoa Dakota” podcast featuring Lilly Hiatt, Airpark, Laura Reed, and more, and her twitch streams every Friday at 6 pm CST.
Sophia Nadia’s admired reputation as an “unapologetic do-er” comes from her remarkable dedication to her career. Her unceasing penchant for touring beginning at only 16 years old and her courage to move to Chicago not long after shows that her commitment to her work knows no bounds. In the moments of time when she’s not touring, Sophia is fervently writing and recording her next release, each one furthering her excellent orchestration skills and exploring pop and rock genres. Her Chicago-based project Cold Beaches dropped their new album Drifter today, a work of art that is as limitless as it is intimate. With a newly founded voice of empowerment for Nadia that makes its appearance in the album, Drifter is a vivacious, live recorded movement away from the band’s earlier lo-fi bedroom pop sound towards psychedelic rock ‘n roll. Some influences to keep an ear out for for are the plain-spoken lyrical integrity of 90’s Pavement, the hard garage rock sound of Ty Segal, and the hypnotic indie surf pop of La Femme. While Drifter deals with a variety of feelings, from the losses of relationships to the optimism of independence from depression and anxiety, it’s also an emotional blank page that any listener can fill with their own feelings and find comfort in whatever way they may need it. Nadia hopes that people find solace in her musical offering, especially those who are marginalized in the music industry.
Drifter must get its name from its transient tracks that freely move between grungy rock and dreamy psychedelic pop. Certain tracks drift closer to one side or the other, however. “Ride”, “Somebody”, “Band Boy”, “Boy, You’re Evil”, and “Grief Stricken Blues” all stay more or less tethered to the earth with their grounding drums and substantial guitar riffs.
“Ride” is twangy western guitar meets energetic girl-power pop, with its uncomplicated lyrics and matter-of-fact vocals. The song follows a narrative about stealing a “villain’s motorcycle.” Though it’s unclear whether it’s showing Nadia’s heartbreak or her ruthless besmirch of this man, this track is a poetic metaphor for giving deserving “villains” in the scene what’s coming to them. The chromatic descending power chords and her repeated vocals create revving instrumentals that show off Nadia’s orchestration skills, setting a tone for the album that says it’s going to be just as much about the instruments as the vocals. “Somebody” reveals a similarly manic and merciless side of Nadia. In the music video, her motel stay is interrupted by a troubling phone call and her night turns into a nightmare filled with paranoia as she barricades her motel door; protecting herself from an evil man trying to steal her heart. It’s brief, suspenseful, and incredibly fast-moving with fuzzy guitar riffs and straightforward drums and bass that are a manifestation of the true terror and disgust Nadia has towards anyone who may try to take advantage of her. The creepiness that pervades this track is enhanced by the whispered vocals– even more so with headphones.
“Band Boy” does feel a lot like psychedelic pop, but the strength of the beat and chromatic guitar overpowers Nadia’s muted vocals and the jazzy chords. The chorus is the epitome of pop, from its bouncy beat to the high vocal line, and even the word “bubblegum” finds its way into the lyrics. “Boy You’re Evil” also has dampened vocals and a full-bodied chorus, but the rock-centered drums and the brightly toned guitar are there to keep the track from drifting too far. “Grief Stricken Blues” uses major 7th chords halfway through the first verse, but they’re bright and thick in texture. The opening guitar riff is concrete, and once the bass and drums come in it gains that bit of grit that comes with blues-rock, but it somehow feels soothing rather than edgy. As tangible as the verses are, however, the chorus can’t help but detach with dreamy guitars that bring an element of sonic euphoria. The opening guitar riff persists into the next verse and the outro, and by the end of the song it’s comforting nature makes sense as the familiarity of its obstinacy feels like an old friend.
While the pleasant haze that falls on “Grief Stricken Blues” can feel quite salient at times, “Problems & Heartache (I Got Them)”, “Love Me”, and “Go Easy On Me” take it to a new level. These kaleidoscopic tracks are otherworldly in their instrumentation, once again showing Nadia’s aptitude for composition. The dream-pop synth chords, reverberating guitars and gentle, crooning vocals in “Problems & Heartache (I Got Them)” seem to bleed into each other, creating an otherworldly experience. The lyrics are vulnerable, transporting the listener to a place where the music– and Nadia’s feelings– are intricate, yet succinct. Touches of dissonant chords and notes add that bit of pain that is an inevitable part of opening up. When you listen to this one, close your eyes and let it envelop you. Feel the celestial surprises crash into one another. “Love Me” definitely leans towards soft rock with the prominence of the bass and drums, but after the initial pining solo bassline, a wave of illusory musical nostalgia crashes into you. Nadia’s misty, honest vocals sing “Love Me” on top of jazzy chords, the flavour of which is continued by an apt sax solo that floats in after the chorus. The ending track “Go Easy On Me” begins with a distorted organ-like part that creates a feeling of melancholia as Nadia sings “go easy on me” on a melody that embodies poignancy, again using discordant notes. Her singing is kept in place by the drums, but it’s on the verge of floating away, like a helium-filled balloon loosely fixed in a child’s grasp. The woodwinds in the instrumental interlude have the beauty of a whole orchestra and are followed by a sharp guitar solo that tries to cut through the magic but can’t quite. Sure enough, by the end of the track, all the music has floated away.
All the songs so far have explored the line that separates garage rock from psychedelic pop, and have dabbled on either side, but Nadia also offers two tracks that represent the poles of illusion and reality. The muted vocals and folksy, slightly out of tune acoustic guitar makes “SGIT” sound removed, like a dream or a passing thought. The lyrics are sad, “I hate myself and everybody else,” but perhaps hopeful as well, “I should stick around.” “I Miss You So So Much, I Really Do” isn’t concrete in terms of its music, the piano background is as tender and gentle as it is passionate and vastly resonant. Instead of a vocal line, however, there is a voice recording that sounds like it could be taken from a voicemail. It’s hard to make out much of what the voice is saying, most of the words are lost in the waves of ambient piano, but what does come through is the line “I really really really do miss you, I really do. I really really miss you… a lot.” It’s the intimacy and the honesty that pours out of this recording that makes this one-minute track the most tangible of all.
There is a lot going on in Drifter, but there are certain qualities that make it stand out as an exceptional piece of work. Its transitional nature that comes from Cold Beaches’ development into a more polished sound calls to mind ideas of rebirth and reinvention, something that is not only attractive for the album but builds intrigue for the band’s future. Each song has oodles of quirks to listen for, allowing you to listen to them on repeat without fear of them growing tired. Despite the fact that Drifter’s tracks are incredibly varied in sound, they have this unifying tone that to them that sounds like 9 pm in the middle of summer: warm, light, and seemingly too good to be true. Most of all, however, Drifter is dripping with potential, and I for one am excited to see what new heights Cold Beaches will undoubtedly reach in the future.
London-based, female-fronted trio Dance Lessons released their single “New Job” today. The track comes on the heels of their successful “domineering debut” single “SMABTO.” “New Job” is what Dance Lessons defines as “serrated pop,” and shows off jagged, zany harmonies. It shines a light on the shared experience that two people may have after a breakup as they both distract themselves from their sadness. Though, the song was conceived before a breakup had happened, and ended up becoming a sort of “self-fulfilling prophecy.” This electric dance-pop hit is accompanied by a vivid music video that was filmed during the COVID-19 lockdown in LA. The dancers had no crew and minimal gear but managed to film a hauntingly beautiful interpretive dance in the deserted streets.
Parallels between the music and dance are found throughout the entire video. There is a nice give and take between the two vocalists in the track, and there’s also a strong interplay between the dance and the song. The moves echo the rhythm of the words, every step is in tandem with the music. Just as the video progresses through different scenes in the area, the music explores different sonic features, such as the wispy background vocals, plucky guitar, and the electronic wind-like blur that drifts in the background. Color plays a prominent visual role in the music video, just as the groovy harmonies in the bridge add color to the music. These parallels are captivating, so when the music fades out, you’re confronted with the eerie silence of the once-bustling LA street, save for a faint siren in the background.
Keep up with the snazzy trio on twitter and instagram, and check out their groundbreaking debut single here.
There’s something so incredible about the connection of an artist to their work, and then the work’s fans to that artist. The announcement of the death of indelible singer-songwriter Cady Groves at the tender age of thirty this spring has left a large demographic of both pop/punk fans and country aficionados floored. I, myself, remember the days when she toured with punk banks and I requested her haircut at the salon. (College was a trip, and she has always been gorgeous.) Seeing her name in headlines in my social media feed made my heart stop, and I haven’t heard much of her more recent work. But the world has been celebrating her all along, and her fandom has been wrecked over the news.
Cady spent the last four years of her life writing and preparing new music in Nashville that both reflects her personal experiences, and makes her even more relatable than before. Her EP Bless My Heart was released at the end of May posthumously, and she couldn’t have hit the mark more if she tried.
With a little whimsy, she approaches the collection with the first track “Bartender,” a quirky, honest, beautiful ballad to the carefree nature of a full bar on a hot summer night. Perhaps the reality of political unrest and pandemic make this song feel that much more nostalgic, because we actually felt ourselves tearing up, listening to a song about drinking. The title track comes in quick to justify the tears, however, as Cady addresses personal anecdotes and makes us feel that even those who fall – hard – have the opportunity to be blessed in life. She rips any wounds wide open in this track, and this vulnerable side is going to be the thing we miss most.
“Camo” seems to have a title that is very stereotypical – and perhaps widely indicative – of its audience, but the metaphor prevails as a gorgeous reminder to make yourself seen. “Cigarettes and Sunsets” takes on a rhythm and pace that lure us into the thought that we might be about to watch 1996 blockbuster hit Phenomenon. (That is not an insult in the slightest. We imagine this track sounds like the perfect amalgamation of Clapton-style guitar and the Northern California cowboy demographic that surrounded the cast of Phenomenon during filming. But I digress.) Either way, the track belongs in a film. (Do you hear that, sync friends?!)
Last track “Crying Game” visits personal anecdotes, and reminds us a bit of earlier Cady Groves’ work sonically. The song specifically addresses the deaths of two of her brothers (Casey and Kelly), and the emotions that come along with their memories. It all feels like a way to round back to the beginning, as she takes her final, audible, bow.
To feel as though you have witnessed an entire career in just five songs seems a bit cheesy. But this release makes us feel closer to Cady than ever before.
Today, London-based singer-songwriter Kate Miller — under the moniker ROCH — releases her debut album Via Media. (ROCH comes from the name of patron saint St. Roch. This saint-like poise is incorporated into her music.) This record is defined by space – in the atmospheric feel of the music and the lyrical content of sense of place. Sonically, listeners feel as if they are floating into open space, but the emotional factor of Miller’s voice keeps them grounded in the space of that song’s context.
Miller’s voice, by the way, at times brings us feels of a 90’s goddess, and then sprawls out into the atmosphere as ethereally as we’ve ever encountered. “I Love To You” is one of our favorite tracks, instilling in us hope for the arts community, as this is some of the best lyricism we’ve experienced in a hot second.
Via Media is a back and forth of sorts that allows listeners to be transfixed and transported to view these topics from an outsider’s perspective. The robust nature of the compositions is compelling, and leaves us wanting more. Don’t believe us? Try the EP on for size now!
San Francisco Bay Area group TheSeshen are releasing their third full-length LP, entitled CYAN on February 28th. Inspired by the group’s experience while touring the United States in support of their 2016 release, Flames and Figures, CYAN is fueled in part by the heaviness that the band inevitably felt as they witnessed political and social issues firsthand during the 2016 presidential election, which happened to be occurring while they were on the road. The group’s vocalist, Lalin St. Juste, also looks inward for the work, drawing on her personal battle fighting depression. Inspired by a color that the group considers to be “both soft and strong,” the band unravels their progressions both as individuals and as a band for the LP.
The album exists somewhere in the realm between the real world and a dream world, presenting itself as a drifting cloud of electronic sound with St. Juste’s grounding vocals being the exact right flavor of complimentary juxtaposition. The sound itself feels three-dimensional, slyly tricking listeners into believing that they could reach out and touch it if they only tried.
Standout track “Don’t Answer” showcases the soft side of the album. It rises and falls like a gentle slumber, somehow still feeling angelic as it brushes heavy subject matter. St. Juste is an ethereal force to be reckoned with, supported by heavenly strings and floating background vocals alongside her breathy vocals that make for an all-around dream of a track. Despite its soft nature, the track was inspired by St. Juste’s own struggles to get out of bed every day as she fought depression. “Depression can grab a hold of you and it tries to stop you from breathing… but each day comes and each day I choose this life, I choose my truth, I choose to push through” the vocalist says. The positive light that she chooses to view her battle with is in turn cast over the beautiful song, making us all feel like we can breathe again.
“Can’t Pretend” has a completely different feel, but the trend of ethereal vocals continues. St. Juste’s voice carries her listeners into the high heavens where this album seems to reside comfortably as she navigates her falsetto with grace and ease. The instrumentation feels cool and modern, with a mesh of sounds coming together to form the echoey space that the track manages to exist in.
“Dive” continues to delve deeper into electronics, with the trippy electro-feel of this track making you feel like you’re orbiting around the moon in a cyan-colored spaceship. The intergalactic-fueled synth beats and bright and shiny vocals will surely make you want to make a quick pit stop a few light years away on a distant planet for an alien disco party. Space suit up.
“Stones” is effortlessly cool. “Take It All Away” floats by on a static cloud of silky smooth vocalization and instrumentation. “Still Dreaming” wades into an ocean of sound, with bright and shiny digital sounds painting the rolling waves with vivid auditory colors.
St. Juste serves as a guide to her listeners through a vast sonic soundscape, the only force keeping them down to earth as the rest of her group attempts to defy gravity and carry them off into a different dimension. The Seshen is fresh, but in that cool, we-aren’t-really-trying-to-be way that makes them seem even cooler.
