Sleeper’s Bell, the Chicago-based folk duo of Blaine Teppema (guitar, vocals) and Evan Green (guitar) have shared their new single, “Road Song”, today. This release comes after the reissue of their debut EP, Umarell, via Angel Tapes / Fire Talk earlier this year, which included a separately released bonus single, “Corner”. Umarell, both concise and inviting, found Teppema in a place of still observation – where moments left open to breathe were both purposeful and reflective. Bringing her initial vision for the project into fruition, “Road Song” finds the duo in good company of collaborators, bringing out Green’s artistic production and Teppema’s open-ended lyricism with an array of cacophonous instrumentation and deliberate storytelling.
From the very click of the drum sticks, you can tell this isn’t going to be your grandmother’s Sleeper’s Bell track. Above a light instrumental shuffle, Teppema sings, “Spent so long on the road / I forgot there was somewhere to go,” as the chord progressions lean into minor tonalities – finding an edge that feels both strikingly new and incredibly fitting for the minimalist group. It isn’t long before a saxophone, played by Rufus Parenti, grumbles for resolution, bringing stamina to the emotions in Teppema’s wandering mind. “I caused another bitter end / ‘Cus all I needed was a friend,” she sings, giving a voice to the thoughts that lead when there is nothing left to entertain, just before the song comes to its abrupt and inevitable end.
About the song, Teppema shared in a statement;
“It’s partially about the sunk cost fallacy — you put so much time and energy into something that you forget you’re allowed to try something new. But then, sometimes, you put so much into something and then you’re a long way from where you started, and you have to figure out how to get back, or how to pivot.” She continues, “It’s also just about being a kid. I miss how visceral all my feelings were. I feel everything like that again when I’m driving long distances. And I listened to a lot of Townes as a kid, in the car with my dad. ‘Nothin’ was one of the first songs that ever made me feel sad. So I ripped that line from him and made it about me.”
Sleeper’s Bell will be performing in an Elliott Smith tribute performance on August 6th at Schubas Tavern in Chicago, IL. They will be performing alongside other Chicago acts such as Minor Moon, Half Gringa, Wet Skelly and Plus Plus.
“I almost forgot,” Olivia Wallace blurts out towards the end of our conversation. “I made a list of a couple local bands to shout out.” Reading from a prewritten list of local Chicago bands that have sparked some excitement for her – a moment of true music fandom;
“Well, Precocious Neophyte, they’re a shoegaze band from South Korea that lived in Chicago for awhile, but I think they’re moving away to Denver soon. They’re so good, they’re my favorite. Julia Morrison is a singer-songwriter I saw the other day. She’s so unique and unexpected in her vocals and lyrics. And then another local person I really like is Girl K, especially their foray into more pop oriented music. Super good.”
Olivia Wallace is the backbone behind the Chicago-based pop-rock project Sick Day. Earlier this year, Wallace and co. released their latest EP, Overexposure, under their new label home, Substitute Scene Records. As the follow up to 2022’s debut full length Love is a State of Mind,Overexposure rattles to the brim with soaring guitars and distorted anxiety. But cutting through the noise is an institution of pop melodies, as Sick Day turns moments of doubt and anguish into catchy one liners, relatable anecdotes and a pure enjoyment for loud music.
Whether putting together stacked local bills, hosting songwriting groups or photographing events, Wallace has a deep love and respect for the Chicago scene and the people who build it up. The conviction to relatability is crucial in her work – personifying, articulating and inviting shared experiences is not only a marking for mindful involvement, but a gesture to the community that Wallace wholeheartedly promotes. Made up of other Chicago musicians, Sick Day has become a local hub of heavy hitters and rock n roll softies alike, collaborating with artists like Ryan Donlin (Red Scarves, Chaepter), Jen Ashley (Cruel) and Robby Kuntz (Red Scarves, Old Joy) on drums, as well as a rotating cast of live players including Chaepter Negro (Chaepter) on cello and Kaity Szymborski as the groups new bass player.
Wallace and I recently got to catch up over coffee and a banana cream Danish to discuss the community that holds up the Chicago scene, the evolution of the Sick Day project and the importance of exposure in her songwriting.
This conversation has been edited for length and clarity
Photo by Tracey Conoboy
Shea Roney: You’ve become a staple in the Chicago scene over the years, playing shows, collaborating with other artists and just being a big proponent for the community. What was your first exposure to local Chicago music and what stood out to you?
Sick Day: I didn’t start doing music for a few years after I moved to Chicago, but I feel like I didn’t really start to build that community until after COVID. It took me a while to, well, network is not the right word because it doesn’t feel like networking, but just becoming friends with people in the scene. Places like the golden dagger (RIP), friends’ house shows, and songwriting meetups that I had going a while back really helped.
SR: As someone so involved within it, where have you seen smaller bands struggle in this expanding and profit-driven industry?Are you still able to find hope in it all?
SD: As more and more of our public life takes place in online spaces mediated by tech corporations, it’s more important than ever to create real, personal community around the arts. Music is much more than a metric used for advertising and I’m somewhat afraid that musicians have internalized the backwards messages that apps like Spotify and Instagram have pushed upon us. The races for likes and streams and manufactured scarcity of popularity that leave people feeling atomized & undervalued. It’s so important for musicians to forge real-life connections because music isn’t about ego. It’s an extremely powerful spiritual force that makes the online narcissism factories look laughable. I do think the diversity of the music ecosystem is endangered, but I’m seeing more and more people craving real community in the arts, and that gives me hope!
SR: You have described yourself as a more solitary writer, but since the formation of the project, Sick Day has seen additions to your recording and live roster. How did this culmination of artists come to be?
SD: It takes a certain headspace of focus and like vortex of thought for me to really get into the songwriting space. So I write alone. The people on the EP are Ryan on lead guitar, who I’ve collaborated with a ton before, Robby on drums, and Jen on bass. I’ve played with them a lot in the past, and they’re amazing instrumentalists in that they pick up on songs so quickly. The final version of the song “It Hurts to Try” was probably Robby’s first time playing that song right before we went to the studio that day.
SR: There was a two year gap between the release of your debut LP Love is a state of Mind and Overexposure, marking a clear difference between the sonic build ups and performances in each. Did you find your writing or influences change between projects?Did your writing and recording process shift at all with more voices involved?
SD: Love Is a State of Mind was released in September of 2022 and we recorded Overexposure maybe six months later. It just took a while for the label to gather all the materials and set a release date, but I was recording pretty continuously in that time. Love is a State of Mind was all home recorded, and then we recorded some with Danny from CalicoLoco – it was all very homespun. Some of the songs were just demos that I recorded during the pandemic and it was just going to be raw, compared to my previous EPs, Deja Vu and Sleeping in the Dark, where I strove for a more professional sound. Overexposure was a bit of melding the two together. And I think Henry [Stoher] (Slow Pulp) and Keith [Douglas] were really good at capturing that idea amazingly. Keith was so professional when we were recording and then I worked with Henry via email, and he just has a gift for mixing things that sound both raw and so professional at the same time. I don’t know if it was a shift so much as a shift in how we recorded it. We recorded it all at once and I didn’t consciously think, like, ‘oh, I want to make a shoegaze record, or I want it to be grunge’. It’s just kind of how it turned out and evolved.
SR: Was there significance in revisiting the song, “Meet Me At The Park” a year or two after it was originally written? Does it sit differently with you now having worked on it twice?
SD: My friend Danny convinced me that this song has to be recorded with a full band. That first recording on Love is a State of Mind is something I just did real quick in my room. I appreciate both of the versions, but the full band version has so much life to it. The guy from Amplified Magazine said the demo version of “Meet Me At The Park” sounds like maybe I didn’t meet them at the park – then the full band version sounds like I met the person at the park [laughs]. That was definitely the simplest song I’ve ever written. It’s basically just a few chords, trying to be more hooky. I sometimes think about cognitive biases and psychology – there’s a thing called the mere exposure effect, which means the more you’re exposed to a certain stimulus, the more you just generally like it. And so applying that to songwriting, if you just repeat the same thing a lot, it’ll get more stuck in people’s heads. I’m not trying to like wield psychology [laughs], but it’s good to keep in mind.
SR: I find that psychological interpretation very interesting, it makes sense when it comes to melodies, but I can find it in your lyrics as well when you write about common struggles and the stimuli we get from them. In a way, that is another mere exposure effect, as you kind of highlight things that people experience day to day, building a personal attraction to your songs. This is brought out very well in the “Overexposure” music video.What were the ideas behind that video?
SD: I outsourced the music video to Kaity [Szymborski] who was super enthusiastic about making a video and she put her own spin on the meaning of overexposure. I love how she kind of parsed it down to a really mundane seeming detail, but it’s so relatable. If I was making the video, I might’ve gone for grander ideas or something, but it probably wouldn’t have hit as much as Kaity’s idea. And shout out to Lola’s Coney Island for letting us film there and being super nice and enthusiastic about wanting to be in the video.
SR: Does your own interpretation of the word ‘overexposure’ differ from Katie’s interpretation that is highlighted in the music video?
SD: I think it’s been hard to answer questions about the meaning of overexposure because I kind of channeled the song and wrote it in like 15 minutes. It felt really real and right and meaningful to write the lyrics and melody, but it’s strangely hard for me to put the meaning into prose. I wrote it more as a poem that is, in a way, rich with meaning but also it’s a song that I want the listener to feel, and interpret, on their own. It’s a different mindset and I try to make something really deeply relatable and also a little bit of amalgamation of experience, not just one detail of my life, but something that both resonates with me, but also with a potential audience.
SR: Since it’s been a few months since its release, what has it been like to play these songs live? I know you have a show coming up in Madison where you are only taking two cello players as opposed to your full band. Is there a formation that you feel brings out the songs better?
SD: They’re just totally different experiences. I played a strip down set with just me and Ryan the other day at a bar called Bernice’s and I was not expecting anything. I was thinking, ‘okay, we’re going to play and the people are just going to talk at the bar,’ but when we started playing, it was like a vortex that sucked the attention to the music. It was such a cool experience. But I think the main difference between full band and playing a stripped down set is that when with the full band, the lyrics sometimes get a little buried, but the spirit of the song really comes alive. Whereas when I’m playing stripped down, the lyrics really shine through and people can really hear each word and that’s really nice.
SR: Anything you have coming up that you are excited about?
SD: I’ve been recording an EP with an artist named Snow Ellet, which is a totally different process, just me and Snow Ellet to a click track. And then I’m trying to record an album of my earliest songs from when I was in my early twenties.
SR: Are you going to keep them as they are?
SD: I’m going to keep them as they are, but plan to just make the most of them. But yeah, my music from back then is not at all the same. It’s not worse, maybe, I don’t know [laughs], it’s got its own charm that’s just a little different.
Photo by Tracey Conoboy
Sick Day will be playing a full band set on August 10th at the Beat Kitchen along with All Weather Sports, dmb the etymology and Oyeme. Sick Day will also be headed to Madison, WI on September 13 to play the Snake on the Lake Festival (free of charge).
Written by Shea Roney | Featured Photo by Tracey Conoboy
Brooklyn-based multi-disciplinary artist and queer flutist Cal Fish’s music is, perhaps predictably, eclectic. Aptly coined “flutegaze” on their Instagram, it calls to mind more organic strains of house like Call Super or Octa Octa, while at others it presents itself as a minimal art-pop sound most closely a la Bullion’s more recent works. Shades of Fifth Wave Emo’s experimentation also lend themselves to the project, with acts akin to Glass Beach and nouns seeming to share some DNA albeit with more angst and edge than Fish’s serene, self-assured delivery. Don’t let these cognates fool you, though: Fish’s music is wholly their own. They infuse this amalgamation of influences with a paradoxically shy take on maximalism– I probably shouldn’t add one more layer, but a flute solo mixed as if heard from two high school band practice rooms away would go stupid hard here, they seem to say – and the result is Cal Fish’s most recent album, Indecision Songs, a project that defies any presumptions of pretension by being tasteful, expressive, and just plain fun.
On the album’sopener “Twirling,” their voice is disarmingly plain in that enchanting sort of way some of the best indie singer-songwriters are. Snug as a bug, the vocals nestle between modular synth squelches, flights of flute, and warm subtonal bass that warps under the weight of the jam-packed mixes’ incidental side-chaining. I’d be remiss not to note the various Pokémon cries sampled that, somewhat unbelievably, subvert kitschiness altogether. The reedy, echoey Zubat call in particular sounds super dope, even in spite of the flashbacks it evokes of being perpetually confused in caves (because wild Zubats are the worst and also big stupid meanies). This Pokémon motif is pleasantly augmented by a heartfelt interpolation of the original TV show’s theme song. Rather than Pocket Monsters, Fish is concerned with “love and tenderness,” sweetly singing, “to forget them is my real test / to gain them is my cause” – a line that would strike the listener as cloying if Fish didn’t seem so dang genuine, or the surrounding sound wasn’t as phenomenal as it is. In all, the opening track is a cartoon maelstrom of raw creative expression, neatly tempered by a skillful sense for aesthetic and composition alike.
In a purely technical regard, Fish’s vocals are admittedly somewhat raw – but the distant, softened mix on them often suits their limited range well, and I found Fish’s delivery to be a perfect match for the tender lyrics and their instrumental nests beside. “2 Way Path (the dream is within u)” stands out in this regard, alliterative lines like “Heavy hearts, hurting hands / hungry for holding” a natural fit for Fish’s earnest delivery. “Patience flows / like muscle memory” is enveloped in a bashfully funkadelic house beat just before featured vocalist hi im home’s delightful hook, the title of the song’s parenthetical making for a perfect mantra. It’s all humbly wonderful, the way a recipe for brownies your family has made for about two-and-a-half generations comes out simply divine every time. So too does “When a Thought (feat. Alice Does Computer Music)” engage with this curated sense of sentimentality, aided by candid pop refrains generously layered in parking garage echo. A whimsical backing track highlights digital bells’ enchanting cerulean, paying homage to Super Mario 64’s “Dire Dire Docks. The tranquility is further enhanced by Becca Rodriguez’s vocals and their mixing. They’re lovingly tuned so as to not quite be swallowed by the surrounding colors, though only barely lucid and only at times. I’m reminded of grasping at diaphanous wisps of dialogue, remembered or confabulated, desperately trying to recall some fast-escaping dreamscape in the earliest moments of a morning.
Another highlight is the charmingly named “Big Bad Blanket of Protection.” As a noted weighted blanket enjoyed myself (sleep paralysis shmeep shmaralysis amiright), I was entranced by the track’s weighty, Cologne dance floor kick worthy of my blanket’s 8-pound heft, around which dance chiptune-adjacent synths and anon slaught of percussive stabs and hats. Caught in the song’s swirl are bit-crushed snippets of conversation, the pitch of which lends nicely to the sonic canvas, creating a lackadaisical sort of balance between the highs and the lows. The timbre and inflection of these vocals remind me of claire rousay’s introspective musings – an analog only strengthened by the following track “Longest Night of the Year” and its use of text-to-speech, notably used in a similar fashion on rousay’s excellent it was always worth it EP. But whatever sentiment present in the vocals here resting beneath the song’s sediment as they are, is ultimately indiscernible. The decadent leads and indulgent kits obfuscate the words’ edges, rendering them unintelligible – that is, until the last minute and a half or so of the song. The tempo suddenly dips, submerging the cacophony under distant David Wise-esque harps and the white noise of waves and thus allowing the delicate vocals to just barely rise to comprehension’s surface. Those too eventually fade out of sight, until all that’s left is the mundane found sound of a children’s toy that leaves me feeling forlorn, somewhat unsettled, and yet utterly satisfied. The song’s six-odd minutes fly by, time itself bending to the frame of a song with a title that sounds more like a homebrew DnD item than anything. It is, in a word, superdupercool.
Fish makes an impression with more than just their music. Their website greets visitors with impact font menus adorned with technicolor drop-shadows that coalesce Fish’s various creative endeavors. These include (but are certainly not limited to) clothing and sculptures for sale or commission and public sound installations. I thought their “Dynamic Listening Instrument” was particularly cool: It consists of a jury-rigged 8-track recording device mounted on what appears to be a car battery, all of which is in turn linked to several lengths of copper wire decorated with various pastel patterns. In the embedded video, Fish explains that a magnetic field generated around the lengths of wire allows for a white plastic bucket with a speaker mounted to the underside to play recordings as it swings through their area of effect. It’s a lot to take in, to be sure, and the slapdash appearance didn’t exactly inspire confidence–– but the device worked like a charm, reminding me of a room-sized, modular theremin, only controlled by the bucket rather than hands. The potential to program unique sounds or samples to each coil elevates the instrument far past mere gimmickry, in my opinion, and I found myself thrilled by the tech’s possible uses in larger scale sound installations such as those by Swiss artist Zimoun, or Aphex Twin’s swinging piano. If any of these ancillary projects were undertaken with even slightly less energy, creativity, or competency, it’d read as twee or eccentric; instead, Fish’s oeuvre is profoundly endearing and impressive to boot.
It’s these novel approaches to familiar realms of sound that seem to inform Indecision Songs as a whole. No better illustration of this exists than the penultimate (and my personal favorite) track “Rise Again (i knw u c what dreams are made of).” With an intro that wouldn’t be out of place on any of the late great Mille Plateaux’s “Clicks & Cuts” glitch compilations, it’s no wonder that an ethereal interpolation of the theme song from Nickelodeon’s iCarly is somewhat unexpected. But Fish doubles down: amidst fragments of bashful laughter, the track transitions into a ghostly rendition of Hillary Duff/Lizzie McGuire’s anthem “This Is What Dreams Are Made Of” and back again, the sitcoms’ melodies perfectly harmonizing with the inner child. It’d all be ridiculous, juvenile, or simple nostalgia-bait – if it weren’t for both Fish being so obviously and awesomely sincere. It’s a microcosm of Indecision Songs’ strengths, exemplifying Fish and their music’s remarkable ability to duck past saccharinity and successfully tap into those feelings of wistfulness, while still being upbeat, sweet, and forward-thinking.
Jeremy Mock has been a secret weapon to many bands up and down the East Coast (Bloodsports, Wesley Wolffe, Antibroth) for some time now. As a classically trained guitarist, Mock has offered performances ranging from clicky math rock riffs and rippers, acoustic runs and arpeggiated folk pickings to brash punk-loving, muscle-spazzing noise rock that adds texture and context to each band he plays in. But on his debut self-titled album, performed under the moniker of his Brooklyn-based solo project, face of ancient gallery, Mock plays to the somber intricacies that relish in our stillness, as his musicianship and storytelling filter through the bliss and anguish of day to days.
Although sparse in complexion, Mock pulls every emotion out of the simple atmospheric backdrops he conjures. With loose and alluring melodies and incredibly articulated guitar parts, Mock embodies the cerebral functions that shiver when left unattended. The steady guitar runs of “peregrine” and “laundromat” are haunting, but ground themselves in the physical foundation of the song – finding a balance between both the heavy intervals of loss and the honest reflection of healing. “Holding” is lighter, as distant synths build a natural, almost minstrel-esque affair of feeling stuck. “untitled” germinates with a steady eeriness, enticed by a lucid cello played by Chaepter Negro. The song soon blooms into a beautiful decree of self-prescribed patience, a recounting of one’s ability to be grounded within their changing surroundings.
“He took a face from the ancient gallery” always felt like a remarkably potent line written by Jim Morrison, muttered at the midpoint of The Doors’ epic album closer “The End”. Told to be following Oedipus Rex, a story foundationally flawed and greatly recounted, face of ancient gallery becomes a retelling, recounting that fine line between a fated fall and the path of free will that got you there. “infinity speak” toys with the word forever, when left to its own accord, can lose the weight of its very meaning. Even the album closer, “i’m going to go back there someday”, originally made famous by The Muppets, finds Mock’s presence immovable – the simple chord progression and shaky melody feels to slip away with each breath, but the gasps soon mark an individual effort to make it back.
Face of ancient galley is a perception – moments where constructed time doesn’t matter much anymore, but rather the shifting souls that live within these songs are the markings of presence. The opening track “Fever Blue” was written back in 2020 when Mock was only 19. Years later, the song is no longer attuned to his current worldview, yet keeping the original lyrics is a plea for honesty, a portrait that this project will learn to represent for years to come. In a gentle and earnest melody, “fever blue” is sobering – love in the face of an inevitable end, and in the wisp of Mock’s musicianship, it is a very welcoming place to be.
face of ancient gallery will be celebrating the release of the debut record with a show on 7/28 with Paint Horse and Alice Does Computer Music at Kaleidoscope in Brooklyn, NY.
Every Wednesday, the ugly hug shares a playlist personally curated by an artist/band that we have been enjoying. This week, we have a collection of songs put together by Mark Allen Scott of villagerrr.
Scott began writing songs under the moniker villagerrr in 2022, taking his home-spun spirit through shifting collaborations and sonic directions through the years. Tear Your Heart Out, the latest full length release by the Columbus band has been occupying fan and critic lists alike since its arrival earlier this year, finding villagerrr in their most matured and solidified form yet. The band’s soft indie-rock tangents and Midwestern brushstrokes of vivid observations and unhurried pacing offer a spacious listening – finding intimacy in the mundane and an undeniable impression of home from afar.
Along with the playlist, Scott gave us a blurb about the songs he chose to include, sharing;
It’s just a song off of a handful of albums that sent me into obsessive music deep dives. I’d just listen to the albums all day and get deeper into the other albums and watch interviews and live performances. Read about them. Just get to see where the art was coming from and why they made it.
It’s difficult to find your footing after times of grieving – though condensing time like an accordion, capturing both the past and present into a full journey of cathartic healing feels so effortless at the hands of Noa Jamir. Last week, the New Orleans/Lafayette-based singer-songwriter shared a beautiful exploration of self worth on her debut full length album Cicada. Taking a two year hiatus, Jamir dropped out of her last semester of college as she went through a “dormant hell” of loneliness and depression. To reemerge from those dark moments as a beautiful new spirit, Cicada lets breezy tunes take the reigns as Jamir documents her personal experience of healing and the importance of holding onto every step.
Cicada plays to the soft-rock headbangers and pop song lamenters that live for the intimacy of heavy summer air. The album opener “These Walls” plays to the momentum of a slow burning anthem – swelling in a compressed state of confusion and frustration as Jamir tries to break down her self-constructed walls of what it is to love and to be loved. The country-adjacent “Want to Love” scratches that yallternative itch that is spreading around these days, with its atmospheric lap steel (Alan Howard) annunciating the tenderness of the track and the longing in Jamir’s lush vocal performance. The stand out, “Indebted” is a steady indie-rock burner, culminating Jamir’s rage and fortitude into a patient demeanor of confidence, singing, “He proved to me that I can survive anyone and anything” – joyous and defiant all in one.
Some of the most impactful moments on Cicada are also the most sonically exposed – sitting still as the words drip like warm honey over the sparse soundscapes. “Oh I know it’s comin / The rain, the sun, the flood of all the memories,” Jamir sings with a quiet whisper on “Nights”, as the chorus blooms with layered harmonies over a folky guitar. The song lingers with an intense beauty, giving space to those unwanted thoughts – not allowing Jamir to deny their existence. With the inclusion of two voice memos from close friends, we are given a rare glimpse into Jamir’s support system during those rough moments – personal, endearing and beautiful, a culmination of the project at hand. “Mariah’s Interlude” is a brief spoken piece, tending to the patience of self care. “Aidan’s Interlude” speaks, “it can be tempting to numb ourselves […] it’s just helpful for me to remind myself that when I’m feeling a lot, that is my superpower and that makes it possible for me to truly live” – and to Aidan’s credit, Cicada feels to embody that statement.
Cicada moves at its own accord, and that’s okay. As a compositional album alone, the dynamic shifts, deliberate pacing and endearing hooks create a charming and enticing listen that runs no longer than 25 minutes. But what makes Jamir’s writing so special are the dualities that often are overlooked in times of struggle are now given a their own voice. “I realized what this was for me / A way out of my own company,” she sings on the aforementioned “Want to Love.” What feels like a harsh drive down memory lane isn’t taken as regret or mourning, but rather the importance of recognition and growth that got Jamir to where she is now.
When Baltimore/Philadelphia-based duo @ (pronounced “At”) released their debut album “Mind Palace Music” in 2023, they launched with a unique “hyperfolk” sound. Taking inspiration from modern folk-pop and 70s outsider folk songwriters, @ created a sound all their own — melding intricate studio production with lush vocal harmonies, acoustic instruments, and a penchant for the unexpected.
Earlier this year, @ released their sophomore effort — a five-song EP titled Are You There God? It’s Me, @. It’s a dramatic shift in their overall sound that serves as their breakout into electronic music production.
@ is the music project of Philadelphia, PA musician Victoria Rose and producer/ musician Stone Filipczak of Baltimore, MD. They formed during lockdown, sharing musical ideas and sketches back and forth via email and iMessage. This is their second release on D.C./ NY-based indie label Carpark Records.
Are You There God? It’s Me, @ is a record with a science-fiction aesthetic written into the code of @’s songs, taking listeners through a mirror darkly to an alternate reality that reflects our own.
The EP opens with “Processional,” a song that’s part psychedelic trance and part synth-pop jig. With its ethereal vocals and harp-like synth lines, it ascends to an apex that feels like it’s taking listeners up and out of the atmosphere.
The lyrics are cryptic and impressionistic — like subconscious thoughts taking shape in the form of dream dialog. “Inside the old mind, it’s hard to be kind/ I’m swimming/ I’m singing/ Go to, where you want to/ But don’t stray too far (to the ends of the Earth.”
On “Webcrawler,” @ makes full use of its intricate production process — blending electric guitar with a heavy industrial-sounding bass synth, shimmering keys, layered vocals, and even a guitar solo that sounds like it’s from a Van Halen record.
With all its many parts moving together like clockwork, it digs into a melodic groove that serves to underpin a cyberpunk theme that @ weaves into its song’s poignant lyrics about Internet culture and isolation.
“Database my remains/ Open up for a phase/ I’ve been dying to see you/ When you go you should stay/ I’ll be on your domain one day/ I’ve been dying to see you/ When you go you should stay/ But you’re going away.”
There’s existential musings at play on this EP. That’s self-evident with its title — a tongue in cheek reference to Judy Blume’s 1970 coming-of-age story “Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret?” @ uses that pop culture touchstone as a launchpad for songs that search for purpose and meaning beyond the daily humdrum.
No song better encapsulates that idea than the title track. It starts off with @ slowly building a choir made from their two voices repeating the mantra: “I can’t feel you anymore/ As long as you hide away, I can’t see you in my dreams anymore.” The vocal harmonies are angelic and tender, evoking The Beach Boys’ Pet Sounds era.
But then the song is disrupted by electronic glitches, which cuts the mics on this studio choir. The track shifts into a sunshine twee pop section reminiscent of bands like Belle & Sebastian or The Vaselines.
“Odor in the Court” leans into a spellbinding electro-pop groove, while natural human voices meld with robotic auto-tuned vocals. The lyrics reinforce themes of digital age isolation, adding to that foundation by asking existential questions about the nature of reality.
From there, “Soul Hole” closes out the EP with a hyperpop song that cements its cyberpunk narrative. @ merges with the ghost in the machine for a bop that shifts back and forth between EDM rhythms and folk-pop melodies; a parallel to @’s own musical evolution.
Taking elements of hyper-pop and pairing it with experimental indie rock has resulted in a record that’s wildly inventive. With avant-pop hooks, left of field engineering, and earworm melodies, Are You There God? It’s Me, @ is made for repeated listens.
Raavi, the Brooklyn-based project fronted by Raavi Sita, have always held an ear to earnest performance – the disciplined, yet expansive sonic approach tailored to fit neatly under Sita’s equally engaging lyricism has turned some heads the past few years to say the least. Today, Raavi has shared with us a new single, “Henry”, taking a more mellow path of contemplation than before, yet at no expense to the weight it holds. Along with the single, Raavi has announced their forthcoming EP, The Upside, set to be released September 13 via Mtn. Laurel Recording Co.
Under two minutes, “Henry” is a brief formulation of personal meditation and elegant musicianship that animates the revelations of sexuality and identity that Sita has encountered over the years. But leaning back into the stepping pattern of dancing guitars and flowing with the grace of traditional folk senses, “Henry” is ultimately a patient song – the ethos of collapsing time into a minute of cathartic bliss is something that feels ambitious in practice, yet so effortless at the hands of Sita’s storytelling.
In an instant, the song begins with a mutual understanding; “Don’t worry Henry / Your secret’s safe with me,” playing to a safety blanket, one with its edges frayed and its thinning, itchy material lacking substance. But as her bright and contemplative voice command’s the open space, singing to Henry in conversation, there forms a separation between the warmth of the tune and the suffocating feelings from the story within. It’s not long before the dialogue shifts, “Oh Henry you’re no friend of mine”, only heightened by the underlying string arrangements (Nebulous Quartet) that characterize the melody as Sita’s presence matures into where she is now.
Speaking on the song, Sita shared in a statement, “it’s about realizing I wasn’t being seen by the boys and men in my life as just myself, but as a girl first. I grew up androgynous, able to act like a chameleon to fit in with my male and female friend groups with relative seamlessness in which my tomboy gender expression, while definitely acknowledged by my peers, also gave me a freedom to exist in both gendered worlds to some degree. At some point this reality came crashing down on me.” She adds, “I experienced what I think a lot of gender nonconforming kids go through in that I went from being viewed as Raavi, to Raavi the girl and all the implications that being a girl comes with.”
Watch the official visualizer for “Henry” made by Callan Thomas.
Raavi will embark on a week-long run of tour dates with labelmates Sister. on 9/4, including a festival performance at Otis Mountain Get Down. The Upside is due to be released on 9/13 off of Mtn. Laurel Recording Co. with a limited-edition run of 7″ vinyl available for preorder now.
Written by Shea Roney | Feature Photo by Veronica Bettio
Every Friday, a staff member at the ugly hug curates a list of their five favorite new(ish) releases to share with us all. This week, singer-songwriter and team writer Claire Ozmun has put together a track list of chewy lyrical poise, fresh Sunday-morning anthems and brash noisy stunners for us to simmer in.
“Pay for it” by Kablamo
Before I learned this New Paltz-born band did indeed cut their teeth in college house shows, I sensed, in the best way, a DIY/sweaty-basement-show ethos when seeing them live. The trust Julia, Santi, Aidan, and Charlie have on stage seems instinctive. I listened to their recorded music on the walk home immediately after their set. There’s a specific sense of relief that washes over you when the recorded music of an artist you love live still resonates when you’re listening on your shitty $15 earbuds. Kablamo’s latest EP, GO, does not disappoint, in your earbuds or live. During their EP release show (in a Crown Heights basement in 90 degree weather, naturally), “Pay For It” got the folks moving. One of those special, tender mosh pits that bands with good people and good sound tend to forge. If you’re ever listening to MBV and want a little Bite, might I recommend this track. Julia is the lungs and also the heartbeat on Pay For It, and yes, she does both live which is a physical feat I can’t comprehend. Julia sings like a drummer and drums like a singer – there is a precision in her vocal lines and melodic feel to her drumming that I think is just so badass.
“(bitch) buy me some fries” by skwerm
There’s famously nothing better than a punk band from Ohio (unbiased opinion), and skwerm is not only carrying that torch, but reinventing/reigniting/throwing the damn torch away! Fuck the torch! This song has perfected the “Keep Claire Engaged” recipe. The introductory bassline has me hooked and on the edge of my seat. After a few measures, the rest of the band comes in and makes me want to do Mean Face while I walk. Zakiya and Osi’s vocals are powerful and emotive. Perfectly empowering/snarky/fun lyrics. This song also has some of the coolest tempo changes that I’ve heard in recent memory. This is skwerm’s debut single, and rumor has it they played their debut show less than a year ago. I’m not one for premonitions, but I’m sure hoping and suspecting we’re going to see a lot more from Osi, Nia and Zakiya and I’ll be watching from the front row!
“How Sensitive” by Caroline Davis, Wendy Eisenberg
Caroline and Wendy’s record, Accept When, is a 2-month-old newborn, and damn is it beautiful. I love how this whole album was recorded, and How Sensitive struck me from the first listen through. It doesn’t take but a second to know you’re listening to two absolute masters of their craft. The ways in which the guitar and saxophone interact, play with, and return to each other on How Sensitive are so beautiful it makes you stop what you’re doing to listen. The oscillations between minor and major chords/sustained and punctuated notes/playful and nostalgic melodies. This song would be well-paired with a slow-and-hot Sunday morning shower, in this listener’s opinion. The pair are on tour in support of the record for a few more days, so if you’re in the Midwest you should probably just drop everything and go to one of the remaining shows.
“Little Splinters” by Ok Cowgirl
Little Splinters is the first single from Brooklyn-based Ok Cowgirl’s upcoming debut album!! Lucky us!! Leah Lavigne’s voice is restrained, delicate, tough and big all at the same time. I love how this song grows. It introduces itself with succinct-but-evocative nuggets – it lets you in slowly and lets you establish the groundwork for yourself. It’s not obvious but it’s not hiding. By the end it has become an old friend, offering wisdom and reflection in a way that’s inquisitive and honest. It’s rock and roll with lyrics to sink your teeth into. “I have wasted years trying to escape fear / I have wasted years to let it go / But this year I wanna move in it like a muddy swamp” – woof. I can’t wait to hear this record!!!
“Holy Cow” by Harry J.
Man, from the first beat I just don’t want this song to end. This is one of those songs that puts you on an *insert your flying vehicle of choice* and leads you through at least 4 different dimensions. Somehow Harry makes it seem easy – there’s a distinct timbre to his voice that makes you feel like you’re on board with an experienced pilot. There’s just no way to describe the lyrical content of this song without the word “chewy” – and if you don’t know what I mean, listen and you will. The words just sound right together. Evocative and approachable, kind of like abstract art – you’ll know the words, but you probably wouldn’t have thought to put them together. With an impressive team of flight attendants (Stephen Rodes Chen, Julia Easterlin, Thomas Stephens, Mike Farrell, Tiger Darro, and Spencer Mackey on various instruments), rest assured you’ll land safely. But not before learning that music like this exists. I hear there’s more music to come and I’m getting in the TSA line now.
Written by Claire Ozmun
Humble brag about our team member alert! Claire Ozmun’s striking new EP, Dying in the Wool is set to be released on July 19! You can watch the music video for her latest single “I-90” which premiered last month here on the hug! You can preorder Dying in the Wool now!
Every Friday, a staff member at the ugly hug curates a list of their five favorite new(ish) releases to share with us all. This week, our writer, poet and member of newly formed punk group Big Garden, Autumn, shares with us “five Hot Hot Steamin’ Blazin’ Brand-Spankin-New Tracks to Sizzle onto your table and into your heart (or liver)”
“Rock & Roller Girl” by Liquid Images
Liquid Images is the tour de force of Cleveland rock n roll veterans Marty Brass (Ma Holos, Red Devil Ryders, Marty Brass & the Lavender Jets) and Richard Hamilton (musician, author, founder of Quality Time Records in 2014). “Rock & Roller Girl” comes from the duo’s debut album – which, in true punk style, packs seven songs into less than 18 minutes. This snack-sized smorgasbord was recorded in Downey, California over the course of 2021 to 2023, finally unleashed unto the eager masses earlier this year in January. It sounds like a record leisurely recorded by two friends who know what they’re doing, and it rocks.
Liquid Images’ self-titled album is a jammy, groovy departure from Brass and Hamilton’s earlier, (mostly) retired project, Pig Flayer (which is heavy and nasty and absolutely rules, if you can get your hands on one of the few remaining ‘45s). All seven tracks are jammy revelations you can sink your teeth into and shake your ass to, both, but “Rock & Roller Girl” stands out as the representative track of the whole lot, energetically.
Hamilton’s dreamy yet heavy-hitting vocal style oozes with honed punk power that’s been marble-chiseled by time and experience into a pied piper rally cry that’ll make a believer outta you yet, you silly stuck-in-your-ways sensible shoegaze softies. Get freaky and give this one a spin (and thank me later).
“Spend It All” by The Oystermen
Don’t let the whole alternative-teen-groupie-Thorazine-lapsang-souchong look fool you. This writer gets down to a good ole stompin’ bluegrass hootenenay hit from time to time – but it has to be pretty damn good to pull me away from my regularly scheduled brooding cuppa the aforementioned lapsang souchong (I know who I am). “Spend It All” by Brooklyn’s newest bluegrass super-force is that good.
This red-hot track just dropped a few weeks ago, and lyrically, it’s a masterpiece. Frontman Stanley holds it down and pushes it up with jaunty harmonica and driving acoustic guitar, but more than his lively, boot-stompin’ delivery, it’s his words that walk home with you after the show’s over. The chorus rips in with the proverb, “Get a whole lotta money, spend it all havin’ a good time.” This is the new national anthem, or at least the song of the summer. “Stay out all night listenin’ to the rest of the album, it’s gonna be a blast. Go back home tomorrow mornin’, and then you can crash. Doctor said I should count some sheep, I said ‘Whaddo I look like, Little Bo Peep?’ C’mon listen to the rest of the album.” *harmonica solo* Finally, a track you and your dad’s friends can all get down to.
…and The Oystermen’s trumpet player deserves his own write-up. Every band in New York that’s been looking for a trumpeter is going to writhe and lament when they hear this one.
“MASS APPEAL” by Nat Cherry and Braxtino
This dark, toothy groove dropped just two weeks ago, and I’ve already spun it at least 50 times. Longtime punk rocker Nat Cherry and soulful guitar god Braxton (Smith Taylor, Black Lazarus) joined forces for a soon-to-be cult classic track that, frankly, doesn’t look like any of the tunes either of them have put out before now.
“MASS APPEAL” is for folks who discovered Nico’s “Chelsea Girls” in their teens, graduated to the realm of Siouxsie and the Banshees and Nina Hagen in their twenties, and are now looking for what’s next. Your search is over, lovers. Nat Cherry’s deep, round, lilting drone pulls the trip forward through heavy synth and a brick-laying drum beat. Braxton brings the smooth polished vocals in just the right places, but those places are few. No one is over-singing or over-performing here, and that’s what makes this track so deliriously cool. It hits because it hits, and no one is doing backflips to catch your attention. They don’t have to.
Hopefully, “MASS APPEAL” is the scintillating promise of more to come from this Brooklyn-based duo. My loved ones are becoming strangers as the mouth-foaming jones for a full EP ravages my body (please god more).
“G Bus” by Tired Horses
The single, “G Bus,” dropped in 2023, and Tired Horses edged their loyal following of jazz-horny clean cut acid freaks with a live album recorded at Hidden Fortress in Philly. Now, it’s 2024 and we’re ready to climax. Give us the manna from heaven, Steely Dan.
This freewheelin’ psychedelic fantasia of acid jazz is just what the doctor ordered in two ways: It’s the antidote to the singer-songwriter-mania that’s oversaturated the New York music scene since the pandemic, and listening to it will make you live forever. Whether folks know about it or not, Tired Horses is already a supergroup – but ultra-niche-lovin’ music heads (you know who you are) will want to pounce on this one now if they want to say they knew about the horsies before they were big. Savant guitarist Cameron Criss (Ruby, Buga, the Claire Ozmun Band), saxophonist Mike Talento, bassist Alex Tvaroch, Jack Gruber on keys, and Szecso Szendrody on drums fill a space and keep it filled so effortlessly that you won’t even miss a singer.
Tired Horses did something truly special with “G Bus” by capturing that delicious live sound without it going flat. All those groovy layers are preserved in amber – and for New York groovers who wanna shake some action in-person, the band has a residency at Troost bar in Greenpoint. They play a totally original set on the first Monday of every month and there’s no door fee.
“What Money?” by Crystal Egg
Curtis Godino makes the organ sexy. “Organ” as in the instrument, aka the cooler older sister of the piano. This Nashville band hit the stage for the first time in April 2023, but Crystal Egg is already dripping with style. “What Money?” is the group’s only recorded track on music streaming platforms (and it just dropped in April) but they already landed a spot opening for the Lemon Twigs on their most recent tour a few months ago. Also, the anti-capitalist canticle of “What Money?” effortlessly captures the rage-gut-punch of wanting to be a part of something awesome but getting disenfranchised with a door fee and, gasp, being broke.
Dream-queen Jess McFarland’s avant-garde bohemian vocals melds with futuristic flair from Godino’s one-of-a-kind synth stylings for what can only be described as the intersection of poetry and chaos. There really aren’t any other bands to compare Crystal Egg to, and what a feat. They could quit now and already be a legend. But, the hypersonic life force behind their tunes and off-stage creative tsunami (Godino runs Drippy Eye Projections and a gag toy company called Jester Trading Co., and McFarland is a master seamstress and clothing designer) suggests that there’s much, much more to come from these Nashville newcomers.
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