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.
Less than a week into their nearly 9-month long U.S. run on the III World Tour, The Lumineers brought warmth to a cold and snowy St. Louis night through spirited storytelling and electric performance at Enterprise Center.
This past year saw the release of the Denver-based Americana group’s third studio album, III. The project was daring, veering almost completely away from the foot-stopping, hand-clapping hits that the group is known for to delve into the dark and and tangled web of the cycles of addiction. But what the album lacks in light-heartedness, it makes up for in it’s expertly crafted stories and songs. The group’s founding members, vocalist/guitarist Wesley Shultz and drummer/pianist Jeremiah Fraites, have been together on their musical journey for just shy of two decades now, and III has brought new clarity to just how talented they are at what is proving to be their true craft: songwriting.
Very little was traditional about the album, which was released in 3 chapters, each one focusing on a different generation of a family whose life has been deeply affected by addiction. The album saw a heavy emphasis placed on the visual aspect of storytelling as well; the band released a music video for every song on the album, and large video screens let concert-goers experience those stories live as the band played the album through and the videos played behind them. While the family depicted, also known as the Sparks, are a fictional family, their stories come from a very real place.
The Lumineers played the new album in its entirety (although not in order as it was originally released) as well as plenty of fan favorites during their set, which lasted nearly 2 hours. The first half of the show contained many of the band’s earlier hits although content from III was dispersed throughout, proving that songs from the dark storybook of an album could stand on their own as well.
While so much of the night dealt with heavy subject matter, The Lumineers didn’t let it weigh them down, and the energy was always light-hearted, electric, and engaging. Of the band’s massively successful breakthrough hit, “Ho Hey”, Shultz encouraged the crowd to join in (as if there was any planet on which they wouldn’t) as he humbly told the audience that to the band “it doesn’t even feel like our song anymore; It feels like a cover.” The stadium was eager to claim it as their own.
In terms of actual covers, the Lumineers busted out a spirited version of Dylan’s fast-paced “Subterranean Homesick Blues” as well as bringing out openers Matt Quinn of Mt. Joy and J.S. Ondra for a moving take on Cohen’s “Democracy”, which is included as a bonus track on the album.
As the night wore on the band got more serious, with the back half of the show containing almost exclusively songs from the grim III, including alternative radio-hit “Gloria”, which at first listen may sound like a bright and shiny sonic match to early Lumineers numbers, but a closer listen to the lyrics would reveal the hopeless and manic addiction fueled-world meant to be represented.
Before “Leader of the Landslide”, one of the pinnacle moments from the album, Shultz took a moment to speak of what the record means to him and his own experiences trying to help a family member battle addiction. “What I learned is that standing up against addiction is like standing up in the ocean,” he said. “It’s so hard.” He dedicated the heart-wrenching and powerful song to those in the audience going through similar experiences.
Despite the large group on stage, which included violinist Lauren Jacobson, pianist/accordionist Stelth Ulvang, bassist Byron Isaacs and percussionist/guitarist Brandon Miller in addition to Shultz and Fraites, the feeling on stage was always intimate and that of one big, happy, musical family. The group was constantly in motion, often swapping out instruments or venturing out onto the stage’s various ramps to be closer to the encircled audience. Perhaps one of the most enjoyable aspects about watching the group is how much fun they seem to be having amongst themselves. Every member seems to possess a true sense of camaraderie that is rare to see with bands playing venues of this size. The Lumineers had a childlike lightness in their step as they danced, frolicked, and (if you’re the wacky, barefooted Ulvang) leapt 10 feet into the air off of pianos.
Shultz, as close as one can get to being an Americana Rockstar, was no exception to this. The frontman nonchalantly disregarded this status and casually hopped off the stage, unencumbered by security, to immerse himself in his audience. He journeyed around the arena for a song, climbing up almost to the nosebleeds to high-five and connect with adoring and respectful fans before returning to stage.
The show closed after a fiery encore with longtime fan-favorite “Stubborn Love”, which audience members joyously clapped, danced, and passionately belted along to with the band before saying goodbye to the always gracious folk-rockers.
As the band loaded out and fans sauntered out into the icy winter night, many concert-goers milled around the arena floor, talking and laughing quietly amongst themselves as adults and children alike gathered and tossed handfuls of the earlier-released confetti and continued to spin and dance in the paper rain as it fell back to the ground, the elation of the experience not quite worn off yet. Unwilling to wake up from the Americana- dream world that we all had spent the night dazing in, they remained there as I reluctantly left to rejoin the real world. Can’t say I blame them.
If your eardrums have ever been blessed by the magnetic vocals of Frances Quinlan, you’d best prepare yourself. With her new track “Your Reply”, the listener experiences a palpable energy, each note specifically belonging to its originator, the cadence with which she expresses herself intense and, in this case, fun. While a bed of instruments accompanies her voice, they come as almost an afterthought, not to discredit the talent.
To both understand where we’re coming from and head into your day with a pep in your step sonically, check out “Your Reply” below!
Likewise is out January 31st. Keep up with Frances Quinlan here.
It’s been out for a hot second, but Stimmerman — the songwriting project of storied bassist and producer Eva Lawitts — recently released their debut 12-track full-length, Goofballs. High energy — even scattered, at times — this collection of tracks feels experimental, cutting edge. While Stimmerman plays with sonic boundaries and far-reaching, impactful vocal abilities, we get a look into the mind of no less than a genius.
Stimmerman has been quoted saying:
The album is more or less about loss and survivor’s guilt- it’s a meditation on a friend’s fatal drug overdose at a young age through that lens.
Side A of the album focuses on looking back at the environment in which our friendship started- pressures imposed on children to be successful, growing up too fast in all the wrong ways, and the often-debauched nature of our great and terrible adolescence here in Brooklyn. Side B, which is home to the song ‘Painted Smile,’ centers me more as an unreliable narrator, and features songs about grief and culpability in a close friend’s death some of which are, I believe, misguided.
With that very specific and captivating take, we dive in to what proves to be one of the most insightful and impactful albums of 2019.
Its story is unique and emotional, and with that Stimmerman brings her own brand of vocal rawness to each track. “Child’s Play” has a soundscape led by crashing cymbals, while “Elaine” builds to that point, beginning almost hesitantly in its pace. Even with the heartbreaking subject matter, Stimmerman only truly slows it down for eighth track “Long Formal Letter”, keeping us on our toes, just guessing where the musical progression will take us next. Single “Painted Smile” has perhaps one of the more chipper sounding ambiances to it, however its bittersweet truth ends the album with an almost cliffhanger feel to it.
It seems we shouldn’t be taking all words at face value. For those of you who haven’t gotten the reference yet, Goofballs isn’t to be seen as a group of silly friends this go around. And that’s OK. Not everything can be carefree. And to take such an intense life experience and be so vulnerable with it? It’s rare to be this seen as an artist, and we’re on board with Stimmerman’s delivery 100%.
