Brooklyn’s own indie rock band Razor Braids just released Big Wave, their sophomore LP after 2021’s “I Could Cry If You Want Me To”. The new album is of a concept record about the timeline of going through a breakup, and lyrically it’s very personal. It goes into the narrator’s (which could be any of the members of the band, or multiple writing from shared experiences) feelings about their insecurities, self-doubts, and feelings of anguish within themselves. The lyrics are one of the strong points of the band, being clear, relatable, and easy to identify with as a listener.
Musically, the band’s style has its inspirations in 90s indie and alternative rock. There are many obvious comparisons like the lo-fi sound of Liz Phair, some Mazzy Star-style touches of psychedelia, as well as heavy grungy guitars that occasionally pop up. The production and guitar work on the album is consistently good, with a hazy but dreamy atmosphere composing many of the songs. Lead vocalist Hollye Bynum gives a lot of great performances throughout, showing her singing as more confident than the band’s earlier singles like “Nashville”. The backing vocals (contributed by rhythm guitarist Jillian Karande) are just as strong, though some of the best sounding parts of the album were when both vocalists harmonized, like on “B26” and “Windy Gap”. It’s an element of the band’s sound that I wish they used more.
My favorite track is the lead single, “She”, which is an upbeat pop-rock song that easily has the breeziest and most danceable groove on the album (with the drums provided by former member Sid Nichols). The band’s irresistible energy and chemistry here shines through, accentuated by brief giggles by the band as the song closes. However, while “She” is a great single, it differs a bit from the rest of the album in terms of its accessibility and focus on a pop chorus. Not that this is a bad thing, as mellow and downbeat songs like “It Goes Quiet” and the title track are still strong because of the earnest performances and lyrics, and especially from the lush guitars (from lead guitarist Janie Peacock) in the second half of the latter.
Big Wave is mostly a storytelling album rather than one that’s song driven. There’re points where the tracks can feel more about expressing emotions rather than structure and rhythm. This is most apparent on “JR”, which seems to explode with intensity as a musical emotional breakdown in the second half, as psychedelic guitars bury the vocals before they come crashing down on themselves. The vulnerability given from Bynum’s performances helps make this seem rawer and more effective.
All the songs are good, and the album is easy to recommend to fans of modern indie rock that are more into lyrically driven music. It’s not perfect, as I think it could’ve used another good hook or two and better pacing. Still, the album ends on a bittersweet but hopeful note on “There’s No Sound”, and I think the band still has a lot of talent and potential to build on based on the more promising parts of the album.
Big Wave may end up just being a steppingstone for a band that’s still evolving, but it’s captivating enough to look deeper into it.
Plastic: The Album by author/musician Scott Guild is hard to approach. It’s a companion piece to Guild’s debut novel of the same name that came out in February and recounts the book’s story. I haven’t read the book, and I’m not one of those nerds that read books for fun (though I am, admittedly, still a huge nerd), so I’m judging the album entirely on its own merits.
While it seemed difficult initially to come at the album with solid reference points as a way of comparison, this sort of lore and mythology filled album isn’t entirely uncommon. Famous experimental pop icons like Kate Bush and Ethel Cain have made albums composed of songs made up of recurring characters, storylines, and extensive backstories that invite more analysis into the lyrics than a usual album. Even more mainstream musicians have done this, such as Taylor Swift on Folklore and Evermore, two of her most acclaimed albums. An album like Plastic can absolutely succeed without prior knowledge of the novel’s storyline and can work simply on the music itself.
For the most part, I’d say it’s an interesting and captivating, albeit not super accessible, listen. Guild is backed by more experimental musicians for support, like Cindertalk (a collaborator of Son Lux and My Brightest Diamond) and Stranger Cat (a collaborator of Sufjan Stevens, another good example of successful concept albums). With a murderers’ row of artsy musicians behind the album, it makes sense the genre is a touch hard to figure out too. Calling it just “art-pop” is simple, but a little too easy. I’d say it’s more of a mix of orchestral chamber music and downtempo electronica, with more focus on vocal performances and wispy atmosphere than rhythm.
When I say Plastic isn’t super accessible, I don’t mean this as a bad thing (I literally listen to Björk in my free time! Did I mention I’m a huge nerd?). I mean that in a sense that it’s better to approach the album not in a traditional sense, but more in the way of theater, opera, or something that demands your fullest attention when experiencing it. Guild mentioned he didn’t set out to make something contemporary and intended something more cinematic, which I think the album succeeds on.
Okay, now the actual music, which is mainly composed of strongly performed and composed ballads. Stranger Cat’s vocals (as the lead character of the novel) really elevate the material, creating a strong emotional quality that’s consistently captivating and brings out the theatricality that the material is going for. Songs like “Boytoy” and “Fiona” excel on the quality of her voice alone, and she provides enough depth to keep you invested in her performance even if you may not understand what’s going on in the story.
The production, as I said, is an interesting mix of electronica and orchestra. Plastic’s atmosphere is built largely around airy electronics that add to the dystopian future setting of the story. It has a dreamlike quality that can occasionally turn eerie, such as the echoey drum machines on “The Absence” that add to the tone and mood. The orchestrations are also sharp, adding to the dramatic elements of songs like “A Doll’s House” and “Worth the Loss”. There’s some interesting textures added in the instrumentation too, such as the glassy percussion on “Lightning” and the driving acoustic guitar on “Until They’re Home”.
As I said, Plastic can be difficult to grasp for a casual music listener, but that’s the intent behind it. It’s a rewarding experience when given serious intent and your best attention when listening to it, and works as a fascinating listen even without knowing the source material.
Check out the playback from Friday’s album release here.
With her first, deep inhale at the top of the title track – which just so happens to be the first on Byland’s new release, Alie Byland signals a deep sigh of relief for us all. “Heavy For A While” is the vulnerable, soft intro to this 10-track masterpiece release, which is officially out now.
Byland – officially a duo comprised of Alie and her husband Jake, surname Byland – has chosen to create an album so beautifully relatable, especially post-pandemic. Says Alie, “It’s more so my own unfettered journey of finding a sense of home and comfortability with myself, wherever I am.”
With songs like “Postcard” and “Settle My Mind,” Byland addresses isolation in an expansive and thought-provoking way. The dissonance toward the end of “Settle My Mind” feels almost like the chaos that has been occurring inside of every human over the past 4 years, as we all grapple with our emotions and identities in the wake of so many mind-blowing global issues.
Alie and Jake, in particular, zoom in on emotions and thoughts from the darker COVID days, and a time when they were contemplating a cross-country move. They both worked separately, then married some of their ideas together and refined their work as a team to really work through the aforementioned isolation organically. And you can feel it in the songs – the composition and the lyrics. Melodies and lines serve as organic puzzle pieces building toward the whole picture – a true masterpiece of an album. To extract us from the humbling events of today, Alie’s voice carries us to another plane.
“Two Circles” addresses space and time itself, and was one of the first tracks I connected with upon first listening to Heavy For A While. Explains Alie: “[The track] feels like it changes meaning each time I get to sing it. I see myself in this song. I see others. I see love, pain, anger, frustration, joy, shame, angst, everything and nothing.” Its simplistic lyrics are open for interpretation, though each version feels like it addresses a relationship — with yourself, another, an emotion, an event in your life.
The pace of “Temporary Everything” wakes you up out of the gorgeous melody in “Two Circles,” giving sonic momentum to this section of the album. It grapples with the acceptance that everything in life is temporary. Alie gets a bit cheeky with the line “The end of the fucking world,” but she’s only saying what we are all thinking.
“Darts” comes back in slowly, almost like a lullaby when juxtaposed against the tracks that come before and after it. Then “Monstera” comes in wielding a whole different energy, a song Alie wrote about her childhood best friend – the first person she had musical dreams with – and how she grappled with the change of a big move – and a lifelong dream together. This track has a sense of urgency about it, a bit more grit, and also a sense of beautiful acknowledgment of those people who helped to set you on your trajectory. Alie took such a liking to the track that last fall’s tour (2023) was titled the “Monstera Tour.”
Sonically, “Like Flies” feels like a Tim Burton movie, especially when compared to its predecessors. There is almost an eery tone to the melody, cinematic and beautiful in its own right. Last track “End Scene” comes in like a brisk walk a the end of a daunting journey. The piano is the centerpiece of the track, the simplicity establishing a sense of peace – a firm ending to this whirlwind of emotions (and talent).
Upcoming Shows 3/29 – Seattle, WA – Easy Street Records (Album Release Celebration) 5/2 – Tacoma, WA – New Frontier Lounge 5/3 – Portland, OR – Alberta Street Pub 5/7 – Reno, NV – Cypress 5/8 – Eugene, OR – Sam Bond’s Garage 5/9 – Seattle, WA – The Crocodile (w/ Noah Gundersen & His Band) 5/11 – Santa Fe, NM – The Mystic (Alie solo) 5/16 – Everett, WA – Fisherman’s Village Music Fest 2024
The song “Lines in the Sky”, which starts Cole Gallagher’s EP, The Confluence, has a soft sound. It makes you feel like you are at the beach, as he compares the person in his song to the sea. Emotions of excitement flow through the song, expressed through high notes. He is truly enjoying a fun time with this person at the sea.
As I contemplate more, I realize the sea is also a metaphor for his dreams being as vast as the sea when he is with this person, as they make him believe he can do anything he wishes. He is living in a world that is twisted, expressed through his voice. Deep and raspy, it captures emotions of anger, freedom, and pain, in a melody that flows smoothly and makes you feel like you releasing all of your emotions into the world. As he lets go of all his pain and anger, he finds that freedom is hard when you do not have the person you relied on to encourage you to see your dreams as vast as the sea.
As Gallagher sings the song “Stumbling in the Dark”, he goes through emotions of struggling to impress the person he is singing about. He believes he cannot live up to their expectations of how to act, and who to be. Despite feeling he cannot be his true self, he follows this person because he loves them too intensely to emotionally leave them. She is the only girl he will ever truly love. He is desperately searching for her so he can look into her eyes again. He is unsure how to show her that he cares about her forever and he hopes that her life is free of pain and worries, as he expresses by singing that he hopes the skies are blue for her.
During “Delilah”, the listener discovers the name of the person the lyrics to his EP has been flowing about. Delilah’s joy is his joy too, because her emotions are connected to how he feels. They are like a string, so when he or Delilah gets pulled or twisted a certain way, they are impacted by each other’s emotions. As expressed in his lyrics, his heart is open to her eyes, because he is open to looking deep into her soul and understanding life from her perspective. His heart will beat to her emotions and what she goes through in life.
In Cole’s song “Chatting Through Steal”, he struggles that his dreams have been packed up by people refusing to believe in him, and rejecting him. It is melancholic and contemplative, stirring pause in its listener.
In “Sugarland”, the melody intertwines as words enter this song, with emotions of helplessness. He wonders about what it would be like to see beyond the fields he lives in. Loneliness overwhelms him and he feels trapped in the fields. Hope fills his soul as he watches the bluebirds flying in the sky and “the flames rise up,” as articulated through these descriptive lyrics.
“The Ocarins of the Tennessee” starts with a slow, calming melody. As he is floating away, he continues to keep the attachment of this person whom he loves in his heart, vowing to never forget the sound of their voice. The sound of this person’s voice brings him both comfort and grief. He compares this person’s voice to the sounds of the sea because the sea is where he has had many memories with them. His heart is floating away with this person in his mind and away from this person in reality. At the end of this song, his high notes repeat in a steady flow in a pattern, capturing the emotions of being content with this person at the sea and the pain of losing them.
Xadi‘s “Black Rock” EP is a captivating musical journey that delves into dark ambiance, effortlessly blending catchy and chill elements. With its personal anecdotes and explorations of drug usage, Xadi weaves a tapestry of experiences that transcends racial boundaries, touching the hearts of listeners from all walks of life.
The EP’s main track, aptly titled “Black Rock,” stands out as a powerful statement that challenges preconceived notions about the relationship between music and race. The quote, “I didn’t know that music had a [sic] colour,” encapsulates the essence of this song and its overarching message. Xadi’s ability to create a sonic landscape that resonates with anyone and everyone, irrespective of their racial background, is truly remarkable.
The EP opens with a dark and haunting aura that immediately sets the tone for the introspective journey ahead. The production values are top-notch, showcasing Xadi’s skill in creating atmospheric soundscapes that immerse the listener. The combination of electronic elements, ethereal vocals, and carefully crafted beats creates a hypnotic experience that draws you in from the very first note.
One of the EP’s greatest strengths lies in its catchiness. Despite exploring deep and personal themes, Xadi manages to infuse the tracks with memorable hooks and melodies that stick with you long after the music ends. This balance between introspection and accessibility is a testament to Xadi’s artistry and ability to create music that can be enjoyed by a wide range of listeners.
“Black Rock” is also an EP filled with personal anecdotes and adventures. Xadi’s storytelling ability shines through as he shares his experiences with drug addiction, painting vivid pictures of struggle, redemption, and personal growth. The lyrics are thought-provoking and introspective, inviting listeners to reflect on their own lives and experiences.
As a black British music artist, Xadi brings a unique perspective to his music. While the EP addresses themes that are deeply rooted in his personal journey, the emotions and messages conveyed have a universal appeal. Xadi’s artistry transcends racial boundaries, touching upon shared human experiences that resonate with anyone willing to listen and empathize.
Experienced multi-genre artist Daniel Ellsworth brings all of his prior skills to the table, presenting his first independent project in a set of four LPs. The newly released WHAT is Ellsworth’s first fully self-produced LP and is the third in the set of I HAVE / NO CLUE / WHAT / I’M DOING. Contrary to that title, Ellsworth certainly seems to know what he’s doing, as the five new songs in WHAT display a mature musical sensibility with their clever arranging and the mixing of musical styles.
WHAT holds the listener’s hand via lyrics that tell a story, a diverse array of synths, and a clear progression of styles. Beginning with the welcoming “Lost In the Rhythm”, Ellsworth introduces a beat and whooshing synths worthy of any dance party. It’s feel-good and optimistic, in touch with the speaker’s initial meeting with the love interest.
“Blurry” heightens this euphoria, infusing its pop style with hip-hop influences, to evoke how the speaker is in complete awe of the lover. Panning synths in the catchy chorus create interest in the left and right ears, mimicking how it feels to have blurry vision in an auditory format.
“Flower Underground” flips the switch. Doubt sprouts in the speaker as the relationship with the lover takes a turn toward the uncertain. With indie-pop influences, this song has a myriad of synth timbres, creating an engaging collage of sound. The jazz piano solo hearkens to Ellsworth’s background in jazz piano, adding another new element to this LP.
Ellsworth draws from his experience in techno-pop in “Operator Emma”, as the speaker is in contact with the lover via sparse phone calls. Pleading for “an answer on the line”, Ellsworth’s voice soars into its highest range so far. The sweeping synths toward the end seem to hint at a hopeful conclusion for this complicated situation.
The final track, “I Believe In You”, is about the sun rising at the end of a long night. Circling back to indie-pop, Ellsworth’s voice has that lo-fi, old-time-radio vocal effect. There’s even word-painting when rising synths accompany the lyrics “surrounded by the sunlight”. The relationship has been repaired, and the music reflects that sense of relief and contentment that comes after a test of trust.
Daniel Ellsworth’s WHAT is a prime example of how to intermix musical genres to tell a story. After many collaborations with other artists—Daniel Ellsworth & The Great Lakes, Chaos Emeralds, and DARKMINDS—Ellsworth sets out on his own, carrying a vast scope of musical experience with him.
Al Olender is a songstress from upstate New York, with a knack for unraveling our biggest fears and emotions in her own words. As recent years have forced her to get to know herself on a deeper level, her music stages itself as borderline therapy for those of us who are muscling through tough times as well. Her first full length–aptly titled Easy Crier–is out now, and we implore you to experience it with your own ears.
“All I Do is Watch TV” has a title we can all get behind after being locked away during a pandemic, but the song itself is so unimaginably magnetic, and such a beautiful way to open this initial full-length of hers. The song itself is about dealing with the loss of a loved one, found in lines like “I read a book on grief, it told me to lay in bed.” Second track “Keith”–named after her older brother, who was lost too soon–is a testament to a life gone awry. Incredibly specific, yet viscerally relatable. She continues in this pattern with the delicate “Liar Liar,” which transports you to these moments and this intense feeling of melancholy.
“Djouliet” picks the pace up a bit, with notably light piano that makes the track, quite honestly, perfect for the summer months. The title track is infinitely relatable, as Olender discusses her experiences as though they are fleeting moments, passing her by on a screen. Her detachment–even during the pleasant memories–is incredibly notable, especially for those who have experienced any level of depression in their lives. And yet, she sings it all with an ethereal disposition, as though it hasn’t affected her at all.
But that is, perhaps, Oldender’s greatest superpower, as revealed throughout all ten tracks of this release. Her beautiful vocals feel untouched by any negativity, a slight release from the chokehold of seriousness that has seemed to enshrine us these past few months especially. And yet the subject matter is so much more complex. “Forget Your Number” is bittersweet and a bit vengeful, and we’re absolutely in love with it. “Neptune Pool” and “Minnesota Waltz” follow suit, employing silence between the notes to encourage a more emotional pull. “The Age” picks the pace up and layers in more instruments alongside boosted optimism. It serves as a quick one-two punch to get your heart rate up, almost blindsiding you with the return to delicacy in the final track “Mean.”
Keep up with Al Olender and her endearing music here.
Athens-based indie rock outfit Monsoon – expertly comprised of Sienna Chandler and Joey Kegel – has proven its propensity for balancing delicate harmonies with hard-hitting lines. The duo’s dynamic is energetic, edgy, and self-aware in a way that we haven’t exactly experienced before. And their new album Ghost Party is more evidence of all of that.
The first track “Walking Legs” seems to get you on your feet in just that way, starting out slow and careful and building into a cacophony of epic sound. “Third Voice” brings in more pop elements, an introspective track about change and hope at its core. The title track delves into the brokenness Chandler felt during a particularly dark time, ending with Haunted Mansion-esque energy. (If you can’t quite relate even now, having lived during an insufferable pandemic, then kudos.)
The meandering nature of “Don’t Move” is almost a palate cleanser sound-wise, though the lyrics seem to question preconceived notions in a less-than-subliminal way. “O Brother” continues with morbid metaphors, while the one-minute-long “Dark Colossus” discusses a unique love, laced with the same darkness as its predecessors.
The soundscape of “Submission” feels like it hopped right out of an indie film like 500 Days of Summer, while “Nightshop” has more of an underground, pop-punk sound to it. Ninth track “Red Blood” keeps that punk spirit alive, at times akin to the haunting chant of “red rum, red rum” from that quintessential horror flick we all know and love. The composition sounds more like a spell being cast, but that doesn’t vary much from many of the tracks on this release.
While “Pig Pen” is not about our favorite Peanuts character, it does introduce whirring guitar parts that make us want to headbang all day. The album rounds everything out perfectly with the eleventh track “Beetlebee,” which starts with a whisper and ends with an absolute bang. In fact, the song feels much like the progression of the album as a whole. We’re particularly fond of it, and can’t wait to see the live performance.
Walking Legs
Third Voice
Ghost Party
Don’t Move
O Brother
Dark Colossus
Submission
Nightshop
Red Blood
Pig Pen
Beetlebee
Get your first listen to Ghost Party on February 18th.
A Mix for the End of the World pt. 1, the newest LP by the Provo, UT-based band The National Parks, is set for release on October 8. The eight-song collection “…was inspired by love and life, and chronicles the fear, joy, uncertainty, and peace that life might look like at the end of the world.”
A Mix for the End of the World pt. 1 is an album that you will want to hear again and again. I would recommend listening to it from beginning to end, at least the first time out. The first piece, “At the End”, serves as a short (52 seconds) introduction to the music coming next. They have incorporated the same device with “Continuum” – a 41-second interlude leading to the end of the album. Both allow your ears to adjust to the next music.
My two favorite songs on the release, “Headlights” and “Dizzy”, showcase the very lyrics, tunes, and harmonies that have made The National Parks a band that has developed a strong national following.
The National Parks will finish 2021 with a 15 city tour in support of Mat Kearney.
