Susannah Joffe’s newest EP, Cult Leader, is full of Americana inspired pop ballads and represents the lengths that love and heartbreak brings us to. Susannah Joffe is a singer-songwriter originally from Austin, Texas. She has had recent success on social media, particularly with the song, “Die Your Daughter”, which was on her last EP, Your Mother’s Name. But, Joffe has taken a new look on life on Cult Leader, and it’s full of spite, lovelust, heartbreak, and reflection.
The EP’s title track, “Cult Leader”, sets up the theme as Joffe plays spacey pop with a dark country twang. Joffe’s airy vocals sing about americana ideals and tropes while she professes her love-hatred for an ex-lover and his new flame.
As she sings about her confidence in her superiority, a deep jealousy underlies within her words and sets up a complex narrative of love and the inability to move on. Joffe’s vocals are the shining star of this track as her voice ebbs and flows throughout the verses and chorus (reminiscent of Lana Del Rey), and the instrumentals take the backseat to fully allow Joffe to have her moment.
“Antler Queen” keeps up the spaciness that is a mainstay throughout the EP, moving further away from country influence. It’s a bittersweet romance ballad that explores unrequited love and yet again the struggle to move on. The chorus is infectious with a driving drum beat and Joffe’s love proclamations such as, “I’ll shoot you up, Get high on reluctant love.”
The instrumentals on “Antler Queen” are extremely chill with sweet guitars and a stable percussion section to pick up the chorus. As she concludes the song, she reinforces her love’s bittersweetness as she says, “I pledge my heart to you my antler queen.”
“You’d Kill Me If You Could” is a stripped back ballad that sonically serves as a break in the EP’s sound and leans into a 90’s sound. Joffe has given up the loud emotions present in the previous two tracks, and has become sorrowful and reflective. The heartbreaking lyrics portray a harmful relationship and her dealing with the emotional aftermath.
The echoey vocals, acoustic guitars and stripped back percussion, make the song feel like it could’ve been written 30 years ago. Bright synths work with Joffe in the bridge, as she repeats, “Like mother, like daughter.” The phrase is almost a mantra, increasing in intensity the more Joffe says it, and deepens the song’s meaning when you consider the cycle of abuse and what people pass down with them.
“Shit Out Of Luck” is a hazy heartbroken ballad that speaks to unfulfillment and unresolved promises. It is threatening, vengeful and passionate, as she sings, “I’ve got passion and I’ve got a gun.” Electric guitars squeal in the background and Joffe employs a strong percussion section yet again. Joffe’s vocals are the shining star on this track as she uses layered harmonizations to sing words of spite and biblical musings.
“Sofia Coppola” went mildly viral on social media and is a bright lesbian pop power ballad. The song is flirty and full of lust and unabashed attraction. The prechorus is infectious and feels almost like a nursery rhyme, which leads into the double infectious chorus in which she professes, “Idolize you, My Sofia Coppola.”
The bridge is wonderfully layered and Joffe’s vocal capability is put right on display in this track. “Sofia Coppola” is a gorgeous listening experience and uses a blend of strings, synths and percussion, which culminates into a twinkly and magical song about bright eyed love and attraction.
Joffe leans into another consistent trope present on the EP as she writes about a love-hate relationship in “Call Me Pretty.” It’s a complicated dynamic of wanting to both be devalued but cherished as she sings, “I’m your dog and nothing more.” It’s a casual relationship gone wrong, as she invests more than her lover. Her breathy vocals in contrast to the heavy electric guitars build power and tension in the song. The guitars aid Joffe in relaying the final rendition of the chorus and concludes the heartbreakingly honest and self deprecating track.
The EP finishes off strong with the final two tracks, “Stillborns and Six Lane Highways” and “Horses Can’t Outrun Me.” “Stillborns” discusses biblical conflict and terror, as she speaks directly to the people that peddle hate singing, “Heaven hates you” repeatedly. The melodic guitars backing instrumentals are stunning as the beat uplifts the depressive nature of the song. Her echoey and hazy vocals blend amazingly and the rich instrumentals coupled with the lyrics behind create a complex and enjoyable listening experience.
“Horses Can’t Outrun Me” is an excellent end to the EP and is a highlight of the tracklist. Joffe’s bright vocals begin the song as she sings the chorus. A deep electronic bass beat is introduced as she sings of feeling freed of a suffocating relationship and environment. She strips it down and speaks in the pre chorus and then dives into her airy vocals once again.
There is a deep, radical sense of freedom as the lightness of her vocals and the bright guitars, keys and drum beats feed into the energy of the song. As Joffe sings, “Heaven’s where you can’t reach” she ties all of the themes on the EP into one reflecting upon freedom, religious ideation, relationship issues, love, and heartbreak. We are allowed the opportunity to watch Joffe grieve, grow, and change, as we watch her learn and reflect upon her experiences and heartbreak.
It’s an exciting high to leave off on and leaves us wondering what will Joffe take on next in her musical journey? Cult Leader asks a lot and leaves behind very little, as Joffe proves her vocal and musical capabilities and has created a piece of work that is sonically and narratively consistent and clean.
Buick Audra, Nashville singer/songwriter and guitarist, released her fourth album Adult Child on June 13th. She writes for both herself and other artists, and is half of the musical duo Friendship Commanders with Jerry Roe. Her music has a unique style that emphasizes her written lyrics in a way that is reminiscent of something like spoken word poetry. For example, her third album Conversations with My Other Voice was released with a matching memoir of essays. But the production doesn’t suffer for this, instead changing intensity and even genre to match each song.
Adult Child continues this style, never staying in one place for too long. The album mostly fits into the indie rock genre, but songs such as “It All Belonged to Me” are more folk-inspired. Songs like “Birthdays & Bullshit” are full of rage and dominated by drums, but there are several moments on the album where it’s just Audra and her vocals.
At its core, Adult Child is about family and relationships, and the patterns and cycles that we repeat in our lives from our family. But the takeaway from the album is that our origins don’t define us, and we can choose to form an identity all our own. Buick Audra touches on her own estranged relationship with her family, and the album’s title Adult Child reflects the expectations and responsibilities that were placed on her as a child.
“The Worst People Win” is the first track on Adult Child and “Questions for the Gods of Human Behavior” is the lead single off of the album. They serve as the intro into this album for us listeners, and these two songs are instantly relatable to almost anyone. “The Worst People Win”, like it sounds, is about the “fact of life” that the worst people in life are often the most successful. That is insanely relatable to myself, and I’m sure that almost everyone has had a moment in their life where this “fact” comes up. “Questions for the Gods of Human Behavior” looks more inward, questioning why we as humans repeat behaviors that hurt us–also probably a relatable idea for many. These songs also provide an introduction to the indie rock production of the album, which is mostly drums and guitar. Both songs utilize these instruments to provide tension to match the themes of the songs.
“Yellow” takes a turn away from the first two songs to look at Audra herself, and about how she’s internalized what other people have said about her. Again, the production echoes this shift, as the focus is more on Audra’s vocals, and the end totally strips the production down to just a percussion beat and Audra’s vocals. The lyrics repeat three times, with each repetition increasing the layers of her vocals.
“One-Step Close-Up” goes in a different direction again, being a more upbeat song off the album. It uses photography imagery to convey the theme of Audra prioritizing herself rather than others. The fifth song “Birthdays & Bullshit” is the epitome of female rage. The drums are loud, louder than the rest of the album. The song is about the responsibilities that women are expected to have, like being in charge of birthdays. Like the rest of the album, these two songs reflect on Audra’s experience as an adult child and the difficulty that comes with breaking those expectations and relationships.
For me, “It All Belonged to Me” is one of the most devastating songs on this album. The beginning is almost ethereal, all plucky strings and humming, but it isn’t light at all. In this song, Audra writes about where she grew up, and about how she doesn’t go home anymore. “Losing My Courage” is also an emotional song and contains only Audra’s vocals. This song is about just wanting to be listened to–and by design, you as the listener will listen to Audra. It’s truly a beautiful and powerful effect.
As the only acoustic song on the album, “Firstborn” starts to close out the album on a more hopeful note. Like earlier songs, “Firstborn” touches on Audra building a life of her own separate from her past and her family. And like a mantra, the phrase “I got here on my own” is repeated several times. It’s a nice statement for the last “real” song of the album.
“A List” is not a song. Instead, we just hear Audra speaking. This track was recorded on a tape recorder, which does add another layer to her voice here. “A List” is directly about the two pieces that make up this album: Audra’s past and her future. The end also fades into “The Worst People Win,” a nice touch to wrap up this album.
This album serves as a reflection into what being an adult child was like for Buick Audra, and how it still affects her. However, within this reflection, there’s hope that she can and has built her life and identity on her own. The five stages of grief are a cliche idea, but they’re all present in this nine-song album, with acceptance being an essential part of Audra’s journey here. “A list” ends Adult Child with the click of a tape recording. Audra leaves uswith a sense of finality and the hope of moving forward.
While I have listened to folk artist Jensen McRae’s sophomore album – which dropped in its entirety on Friday, April 25th – I Don’t Know How But They Found Me! in part a few times at this point, I have yet to sit down with the body of work from beginning to end. The album’s title itself is a Back to the Future quote, perhaps the standalone lighthearted aspect of this sonic adventure.
Here, my unapologetic thoughts as I experienced this heavy, beautiful 11-track masterpiece.
To note, the album was born from a period of time in McRae’s life and is semi-autobiographical. “More than anything, I am grateful to have made this album as a record of my transition into real womanhood,” she explains. “It’s me processing girlhood, with all its attendant naïveté and guilelessness and resistance to change, and emerging as an adult who is capable of forgiveness and transformation and measured optimism.”
The work begins with 2 minute, 48 second track “The Rearranger,” which effortlessly gives voice to the feeling of emptiness in a relationship (or, for some, situationship) that does not make plans. To me, this song is about a relationship that seems to have most everything you want, but feels slightly off.
“I Can Change Him” hit me the hardest on first listen. The song tells a story of a smitten relationship that can only get so far without forward momentum and change. We have all been in a relationship (or several) that presents its issues to work on together and through. The hope in McRae’s voice as the chorus comes in:
Maybe I, maybe I just love him Maybe I, maybe I just think All he needs is a little something Maybe that little something’s me Maybe I’ll be his exception And I’ll never be the same Maybe I, maybe I could change him Unless he doesn’t want to change
But you can’t expect yourself to be the change someone else needs in their life. They have to be willing to change, which is why the “Unless he doesn’t want to change” is so heartbreaking. It is almost as though, over the duration of the song, the narrator is coming to a slow realization that the only true thing she has change over is herself.
More heartbreak comes in third track “Savannah,” which was released alongside a Rena Johnson directed and produced video. The song – and its accompanying video – questions alternate life outcomes based on boundaries and how you make decisions in your life. You can acknowledge what once was and what could have been while also creating a life of your own design, and this song really drives that truth home.
Fourth track “Daffodils” examines a relationship plagued with substance abuse, the push and pull of the life that supports. From one line to the next, this dichotomy keeps the narrator in this cycle of bad to good on repeat, when everyone deserves better.
Anyone who has ever been a rule follower may identify with the lyrics of “Let Me Be Wrong,” which feels a bit revolutionary and positive when compared to its predecessors. The rasp in McRae’s vocals hits correctly at the end of the verses, as she encourages people to let her learn her own way. This song has Top 40 potential written all over it, something we can all get behind at the level of The Chicks or Shania Twain.
The cadence to this song is absolutely magnetic, as Jensen McRae sings “Novelty” with her velvety vocals. She tells it like it is in this track, fully aware that some people are into the novelty of a person, environment, or otherwise. And, worse off, she has been in this place before. Having any type of relationship with someone who isn’t invested in you as a human being can subdue the entire thrill of dating, and you can feel the ice and indifference as it comes to its conclusion.
“I Don’t Do Drugs” slows things down and simplifies them a bit. Singing of how healing isn’t linear, patterns permeate, and the familiar can be addictive, this is an eye-opening piece of art at just 2 minutes and 19 seconds in length.
After hearing “Tuesday,” I was wondering how Jensen could have possibly survived a one-sided relationship as severe is this — how anyone could. But this song also stirs up feelings in people who have felt unseen in their families, friendships, or romantic partnerships. With such conviction, this ballad is specific, intense, and relatable. Unkempt in some ways, it is tinged with fire from her emotions and the rasp in her vocals.
“Mother Wound” hits pivotal aspects of successful relationships — communication and expectation management (which, to its credit, comes from communication). For an artist who has referenced Biblical text and Jesus in other songs on this record, her ability to “read your cards right” and tap into intuition in other lines throughout this album encourages open-minded spirituality and trust, almost. This song is one of those times.
“Praying For Your Downfall” could be a take down track, as vindictive as I would be given the circumstances. However, the beauty in it is that she reads him for trash in the lyrics. Lines like “keep whistling, boy, I was never your dog” hit with an unrelenting attitude that she has more than earned. She repeats “I don’t need to see you fall down” as she releases her energy from the negativity. The bridge brings us out light as a feather, layered in a way you would almost expect from HAIM.
She ends the album with fan favorite “Massachusetts,” a track that gave her a little bit more momentum with listeners. The immediate reference to Batman hooked me when I saw her perform it on Kimmel (directly after Ben Affleck was a guest), but the idea of affiliating an entire place with a person is what kept my attention. As someone who has had the fortune of living in and traveling to many places, I associate these places with people and memories.
Every young relationship leaves stamps on your heart. Marks on your memory. But that doesn’t mean you have to keep it. You can keep the good, and release yourself from what belittled you and told you that you didn’t meet its expectations. This entire album is both a testament to the pain that so many people go through while they learn themselves and their partners, and a beacon for people who are nostalgic for sweet memories that didn’t necessarily pan out.
I Don’t Know How But They Found Me! is a massive feat of strength… for McRae and all of her collaborators. Listen to it dancing around your room on a rainy day, in an air conditioned metro car on your way to a weekend spot, or with the windows down in the sunshine. It will deliver an exuberance to your nervous system that outweighs the empathic, heavy nature of it all — and validates anything you have been through or are currently experiencing.
Jason Statham is back doing what Jason Statham does best: playing a seemingly ordinary man with extraordinary combat skills, an unshakable demeanor, and an uncanny ability to dispatch bad guys with ease. Unfortunately, A Working Man brings nothing new to the table, making it feel like a lesser version of his previous films, particularly The Beekeeper and Wrath of Man.
The biggest problem with this film isn’t just that Statham is on autopilot—it’s that everything around him is, too. The villains are so cartoonishly over-the-top that they never feel like a real threat. Instead of creating tension or danger, they come off as caricatures, making the action feel hollow. A good action film needs a strong antagonist to balance its hero, but here, Statham’s character is never truly challenged.
Another major misstep is how Statham’s character (whose name is so forgettable that I may as well just keep calling him Jason Statham) ascends the ranks of the criminal underworld. The way he maneuvers through their organization is so convoluted and nonsensical that it quickly becomes distracting. A good B-movie thrives on simplicity and tight execution, but this one gets bogged down in unnecessary complications that don’t add up.
Perhaps the most disappointing aspect of A Working Man is that it comes from director David Ayer, who has proven he can deliver gritty, engaging action with films like Fury and last year’s The Beekeeper. Here, though, the script’s glaring holes, uninspired storytelling, and lack of a real challenge for its lead weigh everything down.
While Statham has made a career out of playing the same type of character, this time, it just doesn’t land. There’s a fine line between consistency and stagnation, and A Working Man unfortunately falls on the wrong side of it. For longtime fans of Statham’s brand of action, this might still be a serviceable watch, but for anyone hoping for something fresh or engaging, it’s a letdown.
Last night, the Philadelphia Eagles won The Big Game.
While there was so much about the game that gave me goosebumps, electrified, and, honestly, inspired, the most exciting part for me – and for many – was the halftime show. For fear of being too petty (re: my issues with the Chiefs organization being too financially and outwardly supportive of the color orange, their players and families openly supporting the current regime, Butker, Swift, etc.), I’m going to spare you most of my thoughts.
But not about the halftime show. I’ll spare you nothing there.
The halftime show was remarkable from the first lines out of Samuel L. Jackson’s mouth – aka the only Uncle Sam I’ll ever listen to – all the way through the impactful GAME OVER finale. If you were allowed to watch and listen closely in your party environment, you probably noticed a bit more.
To begin, there wasn’t a single white performer on that field and I was living for it. It’s Black History Month, and our joke of a government is trying to erase that. This was a massive, immediate message to many people – one, in particular, who was actually there in person instead of doing their jobs correctly to protect our country from a coup.
The stage performance was just over 13 minutes of spectacular set design and art, beginning with video game audio and squares lit up like tic-tac-toe. (I have seen references to Squid Games, a show I will not watch. I’m sorry.) Samuel L. Jackson is lit up in the middle square to introduce Kendrick, who starts on top of a 1987 GNX wearing red, white, and blue, decidedly. The car is the namesake of his surprise sixth studio album, which was released last November. He’s also kneeling, with a single spotlight on him, completely alone. This, alone, was a statement to the orange one in who led people in tearing down those who protested during NFL games not so many years ago. The short song Lamar begins with appeared on teasers for the album and there are lines from it that immediately pulled at fans when the album came out, but isn’t an official track on any current releases.
In the first big choreographed moment, the lights strobe, a good amount of dancers in red square up and sync up, and Kendrick says, loudly, “The revolution’s about to be televised. You picked the right time but the wrong guy.” This line is a direct reference to a satirical poem released in 1970 by Gil Scott-Heron, which reads, “The revolution will not be televised.” This piece is a response to the spoken-word art “When the Revolution Comes” by The Last Poets, and mentions famous figures and cultural linchpins that serve as a smokescreen for the actual revolutionaries.
Kendrick reciting these words with the American colors around him, was an obvious poke at several people in attendance. It was also the first time I screamed out of excitement.
He pivots fast into “Squabble Up,” dancers in red, white, and blue sweatsuits surrounding him in various formations. After lining up, they start to step and it is a powerful moment of rhythm and control. Which is when Samuel L. Jackson steps back in and says, “No, no, no, no, no! Too loud! Too reckless! Too ghetto! Mr. Lamar, do you really know how to play the game? Then tighten up!”
And that beautiful man is a smokescreen for the watching audience. Because as he is screaming the same shit conservative media uses against people of color to delegitimize their art and their lives, the dancers are forming an American flag on the steps. And now the camera is back on Kendrick, in the center of that flag.
And so begins “Humble.” The crowd is roaring at this point, while these incredible male athletes/dancers engage in sharp movements that would be hailed as 11/10 at a cheerleading competition. Their precision was admirable, poetry in motion. This is when I started noticing some dancers had their faces covered, some had their heads wrapped.** Some you could see fully, and others had dyed their hair to match their outfits. I can only imagine that this type of scene is what scared some viewers into saying the halftime show was “scary” and “militaristic.”
That’s ok, but it was by design. The performance was meant to make us question things, created as a living protest, and isn’t threatening to the viewing public at all. So you might have to sit in that discomfort for a while.
He quickly launches into “DNA,” which famously challenges a deplorably racist Fox anchor’s comments about hip-hop being damaging to black people. He runs across the field to dance in front of varying dancer formations, then gives us some “Euphoria” and slows down for a rendition of “Man at the Garden” with a slew of dancers seemingly hanging out by a lamp post behind him.
“Peekaboo” begins after another appearance by Samuel, who – in keeping with the gaming theme – tells the scorekeeper that Lamar only has one life. Kendrick and his dancers are now inside one of the X’s on the field, looking like a Nintendo controller. He rotates thorough the “X,” bouncing around and making for a really interactive time with the television audience.
Then, Kendrick pauses and asks a group of female dancers, “I wanna perform they favorite song but you know they love to sue.” The introductory instrumentals to THAT SONG begin, and the crowd goes WILD. But he’s teasing us, and you can hear Samuel yell, “You’ve lost your damn mind!” while Kendrick slows everything down.
Smooth R&B starts, and he rolls right into a sultry version of “Luther” featuring the indelible SZA. Our girl first appears sitting down casually, decided out fully in a gorgeous red that perfectly matches her hair and goes well with Kendrick’s mostly-blue getup. This slower tempo moment allows them to really connect with each other on stage. It also gives the pair the momentum they need to launch into the Black Panther anthem “All the Stars.” SZA was A-plus, no notes. What a powerful, beautiful presence to have joined him on stage, a moment that got us extra amped for their upcoming tour.
Samuel L. Jackson comes back in with similar commentary as before, noting that “nice and calm” is “what America wants.” The humor and the magic in these moments cannot be spoken about enough, he was making fun of us to our faces and I truly couldn’t get enough of it. He was about to wrap it up all “politically correct” when Kendrick decided it was time.
“Not Like Us” was incredible, an aerial shot catching more sharp, beautiful moments from the dancers. The freestyle coupled with very impactful choreographed moves made it such a celebration of community and diversity at the same time. No one had to sing to make a deliberate, profound statement.
But he did. And when Kendrick did, he looked right down the barrel of the camera as he said, “Say, Drake, I hear you like them young.” The pettiness was palpable, but it was also powerful. Especially when you take into account all of the hushed rumors that have swirled about Drake and his preferences and behavior over the years. While some might take Lamar’s diss tracks as pure petty for the sake of being that way, he’s using his platform to call out unacceptable behavior that has (for some reason) been normalized. He’s calling things out, and he’s doing it strategically.
If you want to fight me about the fact that there are no current official allegations against Drake, I would like to say one thing. The cameras panned the stage pretty quickly, but you caught it as well. The GOAT Serena Williams was c-walking on stage. They showed her twice, living in her joy and dancing her ass off. Which most people would think nothing of until you realize two facts.
One, that this incredible talent was policed for celebrating at the Olympics in 2012 with the same c-walk or “Crip Walk” dance. The media and fans ripped into how the champion celebrated, which was no better or worse than anyone else. Now, she gets to do the same walk on the most televised event, and she gets to do it with ferocity.
Two, that Serena was romantically linked with Drake from 2010-2016. Having her dance during this diss track about him is an extra dig for her, but it’s also a statement. If you weren’t fascinated by the entire stadium singing “a minor,” the fact that Lamar was wearing a lowercase “a” chain – literally “a minor” -, or the flags that some dancers were flying with kids on them, then I need you to know it all happened and it’s all connected. Serena’s participation seems to be a co-sign that the claims in the song aren’t just claims.
Which should worry you, if you weren’t already aware – and nervous – of Drake’s shifty behavior.
For those who didn’t recognize all of the Easter eggs, Lamar worked with a team to build out a gaming controller set, dancing within different buttons. By the end, he was rapping, “turn the tv off, turn the tv off,” smiled into the camera, and then the lights went down on the floor and the lights in the seats spelled GAME OVER.
**I do want to recognize that during the telecast, one of the dancers bravely waved Sudanese and Gazan flags. Having some of the dancers wear face and head wraps helped to make this possible. It allowed for people to make their own statements showing as much or as little of their bodies as possible.
CBS Mornings took the helm celebrating the performance. “Everything he did had power, had purpose,” exclaimed Vlad Duthiers. But while they took time to discuss America’s reaction and the controversy around it all, they didn’t mention the live genocide protest or several very important Easter eggs. For the most part, even for as liberal as their cast is, you could see how the media is being asked to speak about the performance overall.
If you take that halftime show and couple it with the incredible pre-show performances by musical legends Lady Gaga and Jon Batiste – and “America The Beautiful” performed by Lauren Daigle and Trombone Shorty – the game was a full win all around. Those involved were pumping diversity into the mix, bringing us not just a variety of people of all different backgrounds and affiliations, but celebrating it. Plus, multiple genres were represented with a noticeable majority black performers.
For the record…
I love that the first black female coach in the NFL, Autumn Lockwood, took home a championship victory.
Two people got booed and I’m not mad at it.
The HAIM sisters passively existing everywhere makes me laugh a lot.
I’m overjoyed for SZA’s mom, specifically.
Paul Rudd looked like he wanted to melt into the floor of embarrassment, that poor man.
Jon Hamm lost his voice before the game, which makes him the real winner.
I’d like Bradley Cooper’s food truck to make a pit stop here.
Dick Prall is a sentimental man. The Iowa-based indie rock singer-songwriter has been going by the nickname his mother affectionately knew him by, Dickie, for the last decade as he’s unraveled his genius on the world. His talents have led him in a variety of directions musically over the last few years, but the same heart is at the center of every piece.
Dickie’s latest offering, Head Full of Hiss, is an EP that is equal parts honest and beautiful. The first track “Shakes You” is the piece’s gorgeous new single, and we are absolutely enthralled by it. The almost five-minute song is soft and folksy in its presentation early on. This allows you to be humbled by the man’s incredible vocal range.
At 2 minutes and 40 seconds in, the instrumentation becomes bolder and more drawn out. The song is from an observer’s perspective, identifying strength in another person. Wanting to emulate someone is such a bold form of flattery, but it is also a self-acknowledgment that there is room for improvement. And while the lyrics are a bit vague at times, there is a strength to it all that give this song strength to the ever-present, supportive, affirmative line “No one ever shakes you.” It feels brought to life in this moment, a song cut in two, a journey with a definitive “before” and “after.”
Dickie’s thought-provoking music is heartfelt, layered with emotion and raw talent in a unique and, honestly, addictive way. The new EP feels like the right listen at the right time.
“Shakes You” is now streaming everywhere you listen to music!
