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.
Introducing Valley, the Canadian indie-pop sensation that has captured hearts worldwide with its infectious melodies and heartfelt lyrics. Now, they are back with their highly anticipated album Lost in Translation, a sonic journey that explores the complexities of love, self-discovery, and the universal quest for meaning. With their signature blend of shimmering synth-pop, lush harmonies, and introspective songwriting, Valley delivers an enchanting and relatable experience that transcends borders and speaks to the soul.
One of the songs in Lost in Translation — “Natrual” — comes with its own music video that delves into themes of healing and natural bonds between different souls.
The music video opens with an individual walking into some sort of a rustic, classically American bar, wearing what looks to be clean and sunflower-y but otherwise dull clothing. He doesn’t seem to belong, compared to the several groups of conversationalists and dart-throwers. Quick to change, he leaves from a changing area, donning a metallic top and unquestionably less stiff pants. And he comes back sporting top-tier energy.
It’s not so much the outfit as rocking dance moves, this man has had a real confidence boost and he’s not afraid to light up the atmosphere. Most noticeably, the lighting is sunset-ethereal-like, but the majority of the space is enveloped in shadows. Somehow, I believe that the lighting represents the divide between the beautiful light, the facade we put on for the world, versus the shadows, our own dark inner worlds.
There is a mirror, and the man is standing in front of it. He is alone when he wears his original attire, but when he wears his party outfit, others surround him, highlighting that his change comes in tandem with company. And of course, he is much happier. The cameras pan to him taking over the dance floor without a hint of his previous self. The transformation is remarkable as he moves with newfound confidence and uninhibited joy.
The pulsating beats of Valley’s Lost in Translation provide the perfect soundtrack to this moment, amplifying the euphoria and capturing the essence of the album’s theme – the power of music to transcend barriers and transform lives. As the crowd joins him, their collective energy ignites, and for that fleeting moment, they are all lost in the music, lost in the magic, and united by the universal language that Valley so effortlessly captures.
Brooklyn-based folk-pop musical trio, Camp Bedford, is on a mission to create a more inclusive idea of America. The all-femme, queer group includes the talents of Roxanne Quilty, Mariela Flor Olivo, and Tallen Gabriel, each a creative powerhouse in their own right. When performing together, the raw honesty and intimacy of their music are unmatched. There is no better example than their new single, “Our America”, out today.
The beauty of “Our America” lies in how it redefines the very genre it takes inspiration from. The acoustic texture of vocals, guitar, mandolin, and cello is reminiscent of traditional American folk music. Close listening will reveal a subtle incorporation of “The Star Spangled Banner” into the mandolin. The original lyrics of the US national anthem are reimagined in such evocative poetry as “the rockets glare, it chokes the air.” Through the lyrics, the listener is reminded of the tragic history of American colonialism. Yet, they also spark hope and optimism that “Our America can start anew.” These clever references to American patriotism evoke the quintessential folk soundscape in subtle but impactful ways.
“Our America” tugs at the threads of tradition. Its instrumentation soothes the ear, while the lyrics are far from peaceful. There is unrest in its undercurrents as it demands justice for all American citizens. Camp Bedford masterfully weaves the old into the new. They transform outdated messages into art that is not only updated and inclusive but, at its core, a call to action.
Camp Bedford Mission Statement
Our America is a national anthem for a country in peril. It’s easy to find ourselves in a cycle of existential dread amidst near-constant news of gun violence, attacks on queer rights, police brutality, and climate crises fueled by corporate greed. Our America is a call to the listener to stand together against the hatred and fear that our nation is built upon. It’s a plea to maintain hope in community and each other, to remember that we keep each other safe. Most of all, Our America imagines our ability to build a nation that truly uplifts and protects all of its inhabitants.
We are releasing the track on the last day of Pride month, in time to give folks a message of togetherness and hope on July 4.
Have a listen below, and keep an ear out for those references!
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.
If you hadn’t heard, Thee Oh Sees are spending a massive amount of time on the road in 2023. They kick off the UK & Ireland leg of their tour this month, with Canada in June and apparently the rest of the world through September. Thank goodness, too, as we had been missing their energy, their sound perfectly executed by band members John Dwyer, Tim Hellman, Dan Rincon, Paul Quattrone, and Tomas Dolas.
Along with their live shows comes a re-examination of some of Thee Oh Sees’ former work. In 2012, the band performed at Emo’s East in Austin, marking their first appearance at Austin Psych Fest. This particular show is included in new vinyl releases titled Live at LEVITATION. Mixed by John Dwyer and mastered by JJ Golden, the music is being released on 12″ colored wax.
“Block of Ice” live from Emo’s East in 2012 is a remarkable example of the showmanship this incredible rock outfit has. Check out its premiere (to a mass audience) below.
The opening punchy power chords of Meg Myers‘ new single “Me” announces not only the forthcoming album T/IA but the importance of self-love. Waking from a fretful sleep, Myers opens her eyes to a sunny day with enlightenment on transcendent love. The simple solid bright colors of Myers’s little room create a happy vibe for its inhabitant despite its limited space, and it echoes a childhood imagination reminiscent of a grade school party this Valentine’s love season. Like the kids and Myers, we all yearn for love and acceptance. “Me” shows us how we can first love ourselves and always have this inner strength.
The part of one continues as Myers gazes out the window, not in lonely longing but in a happy daydream. Unafraid, she looks into the camera to assert her “someone else” is “me.” We see her lean into her mirror to kiss her reflection, demonstrating a joyful acceptance. From forehead to looking glass forehead, we see the singer enjoy her own company. She knows the transcendence of this relationship, and she claims this level of greatness for a potential romantic one.
Banging out those steady chords on a little blue piano, she maintains this love foundation. A mascara-covered eye opens over the lens so we can see from Myers’s perspective. We too can transcend the lies lobbed at us about dating culture so we can be rooted and ready to accept a suitable someone else. No more will Myers be a victim of manipulation. As she basks in her presence, she will carry on as strong as the “Me” beat, bright as her single room and transcendent of her self-love. Romance can take it or leave it.
