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 artist Caelan Burris of the Asheville-based project, Tombstone Poetry.
Since 2021, Tombstone Poetry has been forging a musical identity that paints a certain country warmth onto alternative rock and noise heavy walls. The six piece’s sound took to its most formidable shape yet last year with the release of How Could I Be So In Debt?, where they harnessed an addicting balance of twangy instrumentals and emotionally charged angst in a dense 33-minute listen. The album’s layers of screamed harmonies, shimmery distortions, religious motifs and garagey dissonance are ultimately sewn together by the band’s ability to exert sincerity, their introspections bleeding poignantly amidst every style and technique they experiment with.
Listen to Burris’ Playlist here;
You can listen to all Tombstone Poetry releases and purchase a copy of How Could I Be So In Debt? on cassette or vinyl on their bandcamp.
Written by Manon Bushong | Featured Photo by Shea Roney
On Half Gringa’s latest album, Cosmovisión, Isabel Olive harnesses her voice as a writer and builds herself up to present her audience with big ideas and their even bigger mythologies and implications. Each song on her third effort feels ever-expanding as we catch a glimpse into Olive’s psyche through these ten striking tracks. These songs are often times abstract, touching on the gravitas of feelings and places that aren’t always rooted in tangibility, but convey the bigger feelings of the human condition. These are ideas that Olive states are often, “too hot to touch, too huge to hold.”
Soundtracked by pianos, strings, and Olive’s higher register, the opening track, “Anywhere You Find Me,” leaves us with a sonic impression that sets the scene for the album’s general sound. Cosmovisión’s musical palette is filled with twangy electric guitars, drums, and strings that highlight the record’s most poignant moments and highest emotional points, like the climax of the aforementioned album opener. She muses, “How can I free myself from despair? How can my despair free me?” Sometimes a song’s instrumentation drops off, only to include these strings and Olive’s vocals, giving us more space to absorb the words with more clarity.
One of the album’s highlights is the track, “Where You Ride,” which displays some of Olive’s strongest lyricism. This honestly is saying a lot, considering each track on this album contains highly focused, sharp writing that’s often almost literary at times, as the lyrics drive and command the listener’s attention throughout the album’s runtime. With lyrics at the helm, the album’s instrumentation melds around Olive’s words, as they fill the runtime and space of each track fully. In “Where You Ride,” the music bends at her will, binding to the words, as they lead us to the next movement. Towards the middle of the track’s runtime, the song becomes hushed, filled with finger-plucked strings and guitar feedback as Olive delivers the line, “They said my soul was anted eluvium. They ordered their usual and then I replied, ‘that might be true but it only sounds negative coming from you.’” Olive maintains a deep awareness about herself, her surroundings and her emotional interpretation of them. Hearing her rhetorical thoughts throughout the album is a continued treat through lyrics that feel like an immediate, but fully realized response to the forces that attempt to shake her sense of self.
Even when Olive doesn’t have the words to describe her exact emotion, like she details on “What’s The Word,” she never sounds unsure of herself. The track picks up its pace to a jaunt as she sings overtop electric guitar lines and percussive drum rhythms, “I thought someday it would hurt less, direct address to myself in the mirror.” This song also showcases the bilingual writing of the Venezuelan American singer, as she switches to Spanish for a few of the track’s lines. We also see this on songs like “Supervisión” and the album’s closer, “The Optimist.” Olive’s usage and switching of languages always enhances the song it occurs in, creating a mirror image and an almost call and response aspect to the songs and their structures. The Spanish lines are not simply a translated repetition of the English lines, but entirely separate thoughts that continue the poetry of her writing.
Cosmovisión as an album gives Isabel Olive the ability to bask in big questions, feelings, and do so utitlizing larger, almost orchestral arrangements that cling to her words and allow them to take the spotlight. It’s an artful and expressive record that allows every feeling to be accounted for and every feeling to be considered, no matter how daunting it may seem. Half Gringa knows the illuminating power of her words, and it’s an honor to witness her showcase them in real time.
You can listen to Cosmovisión out everywhere now, as well as purchase a vinyl or CD via Olive’s own label Teleférico Records.
As a small music journal, we rely heavily on the work of independent tape labels to discover and share the incredible artists that we have dedicated this site to. Whether through press lists, recommendations, artist connections, social media support or supplying physicals, these homemade labels are the often-unsung heroes of the industry. Today, the ugly hug is highlighting the work of our friends over at Pleasure Tapes.
Since 2021, Pleasure Tapes has been paving a queer focused space within the sphere of heavier indie music. Run entirely by founder Kayla Gold, the Portland based nonprofit label is both a staple in the local DIY scene it inhabits and a blooming community in and of itself. In the four years of its existence, Pleasure Tapes has put out over one hundred releases, permeating Gold’s ethos and knack for music curation far beyond the Pacific Northwest. There is an organic emphasis on the Portland scene within the roster, though the web of artists spans all over, housing recent releases from Dosser, Trauma Glow, Slow Degrade, Glimmer, Flowers from Dead and Creek. Fueled by a prioritization of good art rather than financial gain, Pleasure Tapes is a beacon within the niche it occupies, re-envisioning DIY spaces with each release they take on.
We recently got to speak to Gold about the history of the label, recent Pleasure Tapes showcases and the importance of DIY.
This interview has been edited for length and clarity
Manon: I know you started Pleasure Tapes in 2021.What inspired you to start a label and what was your initial purpose for it?
Kayla: One part of it was I wanted to put out my own music and my friend’s music on tape at the time, and I didn’t know that there were a bunch of indie labels already, so I just started another one. At the start I had a few friends who helped me, they went separate ways, but they kind of helped me set the ethos of trying to make a label that’s more open to queer people, and just make a space where artists that maybe wouldn’t get physical media otherwise can get it through me.
Manon: That’s awesome, and I mean there can never be too many of those spaces or too many indie labels doing that. When you’re looking for artists, does that ethos play a role in how you find them now and what you choose to put out?
Kayla: Nowadays it’s so different from even a year ago. Now it’s mostly word of mouth to other bands, so sort of doing less hunting for musicians and it’s more that people are coming to me, and they might be friends with a band I have already worked with so I’m more inclined to take them on. But initially I was just listening to stuff I liked and then pestering the band til they let me make tapes for them.
Manon: So you do a lot of reaching out?
Kayla: Yeah, and I still reach out to bands if I really like their stuff, I’ll just kind of put a feeler out. I still take submissions, but I’m just super busy these days.
Manon: Yeah you mentioned you had some people helping in the beginning but now it’s just you?
Kayla: Yeah in the beginning my friend Enya, she’s a dj, so she was making stuff on tape as well. But she ended up moving back to the East Coast so ever since then it’s just been me. Sometimes my partner and band mates will help me with assembling the tapes, but other than that, it’s just me. But that’s how I like it because I like to have control over everything.
Manon: So you do all the tape assembly on your own?
Kayla: Yeah. Over there behind me are the decks that I use to dub all the tapes. There’s one onthe floor that you can’t really see.
Manon: I trust it’s there.
Kayla: I have six, so I can churn them out pretty fast.
Manon: And you’ve also done some releases in collaboration with other labels. How is it to work with other indie labels?
Kayla: I’ve done a lot of stuff with Candlepin, I feel like we get a lot of the same submissions. In the indie label world, people will usually reach out to multiple labels at a time, so that can naturally lead to collaborations. I would say people are generally hesitant to collaborate, label to label, because of issues with things taking too long. So I always tell people that I’ll do the manufacturing, so we don’t have to wait on a timeline from a factory or whatever, I can just get it done right away. Now I’m working with Julia’s War and that’s really fun, Doug is a really nice guy. A lot of those collaboration projects are driven by artists that are really into both labels, but yeah I really like collaborating.
Manon: That’s awesome. So along with doing the manufacturing I know you also do a lot of the graphics for the releases. Can you tell me about that?
Kayla: Yeah! Typically the bands send me just the covert art, and I do the rest. Sometimes I’ll send them the template if they want to do their own design, but for most of the stuff I end up doing the final layout.
Manon: All the graphics on the label are consistently awesome, that’s very impressive. Do you have any releases you have worked on recently that you really enjoyed doing?
Kayla: My favorite band is probably Knifeplay, so doing their tapes was like a really big deal for me on a personal level because yeah, they’re in my top three bands. So it was really cool to work with the songwriter from Knifeplay and kind of get to know their aesthetic. It’s always so crazy to me, like getting calls from people that I have idolized and now I’m just talking to a normal person, that all blows my mind. So yeah, Knifeplay was really cool.
Manon: That’s awesome. Was that a band you were pestering?
Kayla: Oh yeah. I was bugging them for a while. I think sometimes you kind of have to tell it the right way, so offering to do a re-release made sense for the band at the time, in terms of building up to their next release.
Manon: And then Pleasure Tapes also host shows sometimes, can you tell me about your experience with that?
Kayla: Yeah, lately a lot of shows in Portland. Sometimes I’m just the booker, sort of promoter, because I don’t actually live in Portland, I live in a small town outside of Portland. I have my band play a lot of the shows as well. so then I end up going. But yeah, there’s a really cool music scene in Portland right now, I’ve been very impressed. There’s just been a big boom in the number of bands in the last couple of years. So there’s a lot more demand to play there, and I will get hit up by bands that are touring and want to come through and play a set in Portland, so that’s awesome. I used to hate Portland, but now I kind of love it again.
Manon: Do you have a favorite show you’ve done?
Kayla: Yeah, there was a show at the start of the year at this place called Star Theater. It’s an old fancy auditorium style theater, and we had I think six or seven bands on the bill, so that was really cool. We made a lot of friends there, and it was also the first show that my new drummer played, and so he was like, whoa, this is so cool. We were like, get used to this, because not all of our shows are this well attended.
Manon: Was it a mix of local Portland bands and ones from elsewhere, or was it all bands from Portland?
Kayla: Yeah, it was all Portland bands, and most of them are on the label. I feel like in the last year, just a bunch of the bands in Portland have been hitting me up for tapes and CDs, so my focus has kind of shifted there. Before, I was living in LA so I was mostly going to those shows and making friends down there. I also like to do these showcases where we just have Pleasure Tapes band play.
Manon: So I know you put out music from bands from all over, but would you say that where you are and the local scenes and communities are also a big factor in what you choose to release?
Kayla: Yeah definitely. I feel like it’s pretty organic that once I have done one band then their friends will hit me up. Also a lot of the bands are from Texas and the Southeast, also Louisiana, a lot of Florida bands, I mean I’ve done like 100, almost 110 releases now, and most of those are not from the same band. So there’s just a shit ton of people I’ve worked with all over now, and I feel like that is helpful for when bands are trying to tour. It makes a kind of a patchwork of cities where people might already know each other through the label, as opposed to just cold calling bands to try to set up shows.
Manon: That’s really cool. And you said most of those are not the same band, are there times where you have worked with a band for multiple releases, and how is that?
Kayla: I definitely have an open door policy for people. If they want to move on to another label I’m always fine with that. A lot of people have gone from Pleasure Tapes to Julia’s War and then blow up. I’m always open to whatever is best for people’s careers, but I also do like to do multiple releases with the same artist if they are interested.
Manon: Okay so you said you’ve done about 100 releases, is there anything you wish you knew 100 releases ago?
Kayla: Oh my god. Yeah… haha shit. Well I spent a lot of money on tape decks that ended up breaking in ways I couldn’t fix. So I would say, don’t try to buy vintage decks unless they’re fucking nice, or learn how to fix tape decks cause they always break. Also being an indie label, even within that space there’s obviously a lot of different options. So if you’re just starting out, you kind of need a niche within the niche. I think being a queer label puts off bands that do not want to be associated with something gay, but it also is an open door for people who are like “okay yeah, this label is for me, so I am going to seek them out.”
Manon: What would you say is your favorite thing about running Pleasure Tapes, and being so involved in DIY music in general?
Kayla: I love doing the design stuff, I find it really satisfying. I also like the idea of queering the space and making a transitional area where maybe we are doing things a bit differently than other labels in terms of how I take on artists, at risk to my budget. Because we are a nonprofit, so my goal isn’t ever to make money from artists. I like being able to support people that are small and just getting started, bringing visibility to that and then also hearing all of the best new music in the scene, it is pretty special. I feel like it’s a real treat to get music submitted, even if I am not going to take on the project, I do listen to everything. In the Trump four years that we’re in, as everybody’s dying from microplastics and there’s a lot of fascism in the world and things are just very dark, and it’s so important to have things that are still special and not ruined by capitalism.
Along with this series, our friends over at Pleasure Tapes are offering some merch in a giveaway bundle, which includes any tape or CD of your choice from their extensive catalog as well as a Pleasure Tapes tote bag.
To enter the giveaway, follow these easy steps below!
On a quick trip to New York, one of the first shows I got to attend was a small bill consisting of Dorée, Sister., and Avery Friedman (the latter being an artist I never heard of before until that evening) in an intimate living room setting. As we were filing into the warmly lit house, everyone began to take their shoes off, and as I anxiously contemplated if I was wearing that pair of socks that had the massive hole in them, Avery Friedman was just beginning her set. Playing mostly alone, along with a handful of songs accompanied by James Chrisman on guitar, Avery’s songs filled that small space with both a gripping passion and a newfound focus.
Since that evening, there have been parts of Avery’s songwriting that have stuck with me in a way that has been difficult to put into words. There are moments that brush past my own bits of internal dialogues – anxieties, doubts and memories that each take their turns in the queue. But as Avery began to release her first handful of singles, and hearing these songs take on a fuller form than what I heard during her tender and open solo performance, there was a continuity that was beginning to become clear within her music. It’s not in sonic complexion or even melodic fixations that tow this line, but rather the way she approached, and later learned to embrace music as an unknown territory for her. Having never considered herself a songwriter for most of her life, Avery was fluent in writing about music but never felt comfortable in sharing her own. After meeting friends James Chrisman (Sister.) and Felix Walworth (Told Slant, Florist) who helped her push through to make the record a possibility, the stories she needed to tell and the healing she needed to feel became synonymous with a musical progression and identity built on embracing trial and error.
Today, Avery Friedman has shared with us “New Thing”, the final single before she releases her debut album of the same name on April 18th via Audio Antihero. We recently got to catch up with Avery to discuss coming into her own identity as a songwriting, challenging her anxieties and how New Thing all came to be.
This interview has been edited for length and clarity.
Shea Roney: We are very quickly approaching the eve of your debut record. How are you feeling about it all?
Avery Friedman: It’s true, It’s one of those things where it feels like such a long time coming. In some ways this is like a lifelong dream that I didn’t even realize was a dream, or even possible for so long. But also, it feels like everything happened so fast because it is all still quite new to me. I’m very excited and just grateful to have made something and to get it out there, and that people seem to be liking it.
SR: It’s fun, because I found you in the context of seeing you play a small house show before you had any music out, and I remember just being blown away by your songs that were already so full in that environment. Then seeing you release these singles one by one, with tracks fully fleshed out, brought a new life to these songs. How did you approach bringing these songs out in the recording process, and how much of it was playing to intuition and emotions, and how much was it trying to challenge yourself?
AF: I mean, it’s funny because these songs are the first songs I’ve ever written, and it’s also the first time I’ve ever recorded something. I write on acoustic guitar and so beyond that, especially having never recorded before, I did a lot of it with my friend James, and I had never been in a situation where someone was like, ‘okay, so like, what do you want this to sound like?’ I had no fucking idea [laughs]. I really lacked a language for describing what type of guitar would sound good, what type of drum beat, or lack thereof do I want, do I want synthetic noises, like whatever. So that’s all to say, it was a huge intuitive process, I think, because there wasn’t really any intentionality with what the sound would be. I just wanted it to feel like the production elements just further emphasize the spirit of the song.
I feel really grateful because James spent a lot of time with me being frustrated in his apartment, not even knowing if this sounded good. But I think it became a sort of chicken or the egg thing too. One of the first things we recorded together was a demo of the title track “New Thing”, and we just laid down a drum beat from a drum machine, played a guitar that’s similar to what is on the final product, and then had a synth in the background. I think that was the first glimpse of what my music might sound like, and I really loved that. Once we had a little bit of that concrete idea of what Avery Friedman music might sound like, we evolved from there.
Photo by Mamie Heldman
SR: In that personal language you developed, did you rely more on what feels right and what doesn’t feel right to describe what you wanted?
AF: In lieu of not writing music for 26 years of my life, I wrote about music for my school paper and had different podcasts about music. I was an intense music listener, so I could describe what was going on in songs. But I remember, once I started understanding things like adding acoustic guitar here can create a sense of longing, or that I always want vocal harmonies – I remember when we were working on the song “Finger Painting”, there’s a big build, and James asked, ‘do you think a guitar solo is the thing that you want to be the climax of the song?’ And I sat for a second, and I was like, ‘No. What if we tried some vocal modulation?’ – that kind of thing. It’s so small, but it was one of the first times that I actually had a different idea that I accessed quickly, and that we were able to implement it. Now, I can’t wait to record something else, because it will save a lot of time.
SR: I know you have never saw yourself as a songwriter before these songs began to be released, but what did it take for you to embrace that label and are you still weary of it?
AF: I mean, not anymore. I’m putting shit out there, so I have to just own this. It’s been such a beautiful thing, it feels like something that I will never put back in a container. It’s a way that I now have figured out how to process stuff. Now, when I’m having a weird emotion, I have a new tool. My main goal with music is to continually be putting more time and energy in my life towards it. It’s surreal to talk about my stuff like this, and it’s surreal and cool to meet people over the past year and a half, since I’ve been doing this, that come to just know me as someone who is a musician. The first time I posted a show I was playing, like two Julys ago, people in my life were probably thinking, ‘that’s random. Avery’s trying something new’ [laughs].
SR: In a lot of ways, these songs are almost combative to permanence. Whether that be growing from past traumas, coming into your own and defining your identity, or just challenging yourself as a songwriter, what sort of things were you pushing towards when writing these songs?
AF: I do really view them as a jumping off point. At least for me, it’s been easy to feel like once I’m done recording it, that it’s all over. It’s a long process, and it takes so much energy and attention, but I’m viewing this as truly the beginning, and I’m really excited for future state musician me. I tried a lot of different stuff – different sonic textures and very different types of songs on the record. I’m really excited to use these as a jumping off point that I’m really proud of, and to be more intentional going forward. The record really is meta, because it speaks to and embodies a lot of firsts for me. A lot of instances of growth that were challenging and facing fears and anxieties. It’s the classic take your hardship and make it into art situation, but I’m just grateful that I have a time capsule, and I’m so grateful that that’s my first time jumping into music, because I’ll always be proud of it, even if my sound evolves a lot.
SR: Because you have dabbled in a lot of different styles, was there one that you felt represented you a little bit more than the others?
AF: It’s hard, but honestly, I think “Finger Painting” is one that I feel really proud of. Something funny about this record was James and I originally tried to record a lot of it by tracking to a metronome in his apartment, and then we just realized that they kind of lost their essence. Something that I have found to be useful when recording something for the first time is thinking, what did I feel listening to the first voice memo of this song that felt really good? Can I still access that here? And we lost some of that, so we scratched the songs we’d recorded, and we went and recorded a bunch of them live in a suit with my friends Ryan Cox (Club Aqua) and Felix. I think the ethos is just sort of trusting that instinct, taking a risk and trying to harness that live energy.
SR: I can imagine there was a lot of trust that had to go into making this record. Especially because you’ve had these songs for a while, haven’t you?
AF: I’ve had them for a few years, and the cool thing about this, though, was that there was not that much of a lapse between when I first started writing these songs and when we started recording them. I just kept writing them, and then we just were like, ‘okay, looks like we got a record’. It was crazy. Someone in an interview yesterday asked me, ‘when did you decide you’re going to make a full record?’ I was like, ‘I did not. We just realized we had songs’ [laughs].
SR: How much of it was trusting yourself, that these songs are going to be made to give justice to the stories behind them, as well as trust in the collaboration and ideas from your friends?
AF: You know, I met Felix and James through Ceci [Sturman]. James and I are both from Ohio, so I went and caught them on that Told Slant and Sister. tour, and he was having a campfire in his backyard, and they were passing around a guitar. And here I am getting nervous because I was thinking ‘Oh, my God. I do not want this to come to me right now’. I just hadn’t performed for anyone, and only Ceci knew I had written a few songs. So, I played really nervously for them, and James was like, ‘what the fuck, that is so good.’ When they came back from that tour, James texted me that he was going to be playing around with new recording techniques and said I should come by and record some of my stuff. I think we recorded that “New Thing” demo that day, and I was so nervous. My hands were shaking, and it was a really active effort to push myself to do this. Then a few months later, Ceci, Hannah [Pruzinsky], Felix and I went upstate, and Ceci was like, ‘you gotta play them the demo’. The next day Felix was like, ‘I’ve been thinking about how you sing on that song all day, and they offered to help you make the record. I couldn’t say no to this, but I also had such imposter syndrome, and every day was an effort, because I was just tweaking.
SR: How long did that imposter syndrome seem to last? Starting fresh, I can imagine there were little goof ups here and there.
AF: Of course there were goof ups. I think, for me, it just felt so vulnerable in like 900 ways, but especially just that I’ve never done this before – there were definitely goof ups. I would sometimes leave recording and just be like, ‘damn, I wasted everyone’s time,’ and I would become really hard on myself. After I performed for the first time in July of 2023, I didn’t sleep for two days before, I was so unwell. It was an inconsequential backyard show, and that’s when I was like, I need to do exposure therapy on myself. I’m going to perform every month from now on to sort of build up a tolerance here, to the feelings of vulnerability. And honestly, it’s finally a little better. Only in the past, maybe 4-5 months or so, I’m more excited for shows, which was not the case for a year.
Photo by Mamie Heldman
SR: You started playing shows in 2023 and now have a band that backs you up. Have you seen yourself grow in these live settings? As you began to play more, and with more people, what felt right as you were coming into this performance space?
AF: It’s so funny to feel compelled to do something that brings you so much fear. Maybe that was the thing, that so much was going on, so much has been really hard and shitty in the world the past couple years, something that grounded me was just the awareness. I have the ability to pursue art, to have people who want to make it with me, to perform, to spend an hour of my night doing that – it’s such a gift. A lot of people are not with that type of agency, and I just was like, ‘this doesn’t matter’. Worst case, you fuck up and it’s embarrassing, but it’s fine. I think, honestly, just grounding in gratitude for the ability to dedicate my time to this has been very grounding to me. I love performing with people. I don’t mind a solo performance, but I love a band experience. A recent goal after I exposure therapied a little was to be more present on stage. Because sometimes I was so nervous, I would kind of black out, eyes closed, the whole time. I think it lends itself to a really good and high-quality performance musically, but also just emotionally, for an audience and the performers to be connected on stage. So now I make a really conscious effort, now that I’m a bit more comfortable, to make eye contact. When it’s time for James to do a cool thing on guitar, or it’s time for Alexa [Terfloth] to do a cool synth thing, I try to look around and be like, we’re a little team. We’re doing this thing. That is really grounding to me because it feels like it’s less exposed. And we’re all in it.
New Thing will be out April 18th via Audio Antihero. You can pre-order the album now as well as cassette tape.
Written by Shea Roney | Featured Photo by Mamie Heldman
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 Al Menne of the Seattle-based group Great Grandpa.
After a long break, each member taking route in different directions in their life, Great Grandpa has returned with a handful of singles teasing what will be Patience, Moonbeam, their first album in six years out this Friday. To celebrate, we asked singer-songwriter and lead vocalist of Great Grandpa, Al Menne, to curate this week’s guest list on the ugly hug.
Called ‘Out the Window’, Al describes the playlist as;
Songs that make me feel a timeless warmth. Something to look wistfully out the window to on a long drive, to a familiar place perhaps with a smirk or a gentle tear in the eye.
Patience, Moonbeam is set to be released this Friday March 28th via Run For Cover Records. You can listen to the previously released singles out everywhere now, as well as pre-order the album digitally or on vinyl and CD!
Through the glitchy fixations that tickle our most keen and wistful fulfillments, Boston-based group (T-T)b share with us their brand new single, “Bug on the Ceiling”. Made up of brothers Joey and Nick Dussault as well as Jake Cardinal, (T-T)b has been releasing music since 2015, and this single marks the last bit of teasing from the three piece as they look ahead to their upcoming LP, Beautiful Extension Cord due April 4th via Disposable America.
There is something immediate that occurs as “Bug on the Ceiling” kicks off with a foreboding chord progression, not one necessarily in debt to any malice, but rather laying out an array of options for the picking. But upon a pixelated blip, an ascension into the lofty and exciting realms of weightless synths, the power kicks in as the band erupts into a heavily distorted chorus, toying with playful electronic tinkerings and harsh, grounded noise. “Was it heaven or just a bug” becomes the main focus of the track as the band repeats this line while introducing a culmination of searing amps and implicit melodic fixations that rip through, leading us into this serene indie rock release and reminding us that the biggest questions oftentimes have a simple answer… sometimes it’s just a bug.
About the single, Joey shared, “I wrote this on the bus home from (what I thought would be) the last ever show from a band that was special to me. Thankfully it wasn’t, but they still taught me a lot about what a music scene could be, so the sentiment stands.”
You can listen to “Bug on the Ceiling” out everywhere now. Beautiful Extension Cord is set to be released April 4th via Disposable America. Pre-order the album digitally, as well as on vinyl, CD and cassette now.
Written by Shea Roney | Single Artwork by Sami Martasian
Innocents in Babylon doesn’t always work. Maybe it’s an extension of the fact that all of your reporter’s favorite musicians in the local New York City music scene right now just happen to be in their mid-twenties or mid-thirties (Renny Conti is such a Brooklyn-based musician). Either way, Conti’s self-titled is a refreshingly human record. It’s a well-timed, heat-seeking missile to the grown-up adolescent who’s just a few years past being able to relate to their favorite coming-of-age films anymore, and acutely aware of that distance/separation/isolation. For this cosmically stultified demographic, Renny Conti is solace.
Conti’s musky, different lyrics are delivered with intention and purpose, but not eagerness. Our singer brings a slightly chilly air to this record that keeps it cool instead of overly jejune. More akin to Pavement’s “Slanted and Enchanted” or, if things go poorly for all of us, Purple Mountains in fifteen years. Walk-with-you lyrics rip in on “South Star”: “It could’ve never been this way. I mean, it could’ve been this way, but it’s not.” Later, on “Room to Room,” Conti confides, “I feel your pain, I too want everything, wanting the world to stop, or just for life to change.”
On “I Find It Hard” (which might be the star track for your reporter), Conti brings a unique vocal delivery that doesn’t appear anywhere else on the album. Conti is singing differently here and it works. This New Voice is backed by an unconventional chorus, a few voices loosely strung together in a melancholic drone. Like if the Greek chorus in a Homeric drama repeated every line after Falstaff’s soliloquy, it’s surprising in a way that makes you smile, but it’s a bitter smile. The lyrics are bleaker and more honest on this track than any other on this dimensional, all-seasons record – self-conflicting like its just-past-ripened audience.
With Renny Conti, the artist rides the neo-wave of Neil Young worship, but not with such piety that it’s a faithful adaptation or in any way lacks originality. Not unlike MJ Lenderman, but tougher on the ears, toothy with dissonant key chords, especially on “Room to Room,” which ends in a broken mirror guitar solo that belongs on “Metal Machine Music.” Conti’s album is all about tension and release, but a release that doesn’t let you off the hook entirely. If “Manning Fireworks” found a place in your Best Albums of 2024 roundup, but you want it darker, Conti brings the flame.
This, as aforementioned, is a human record – not a perfect record – but that doesn’t stop it from being a masterpiece. The prickly-world-weary gauntlet has been thrown down and Renny Conti has answered. A rare and welcome reprieve from the fear panic white noise of Modern Life On Mars (a volume his track “Life on Earth” aptly points out). If you partake in general anesthetics or arylcyclohexylamine derivatives, put on “Life of Earth” and lie face-up on the rug (and thank us later).
This new voice on the indie scene is marked by a lived-in feel. Although not his musical debut, it feels fitting that this album is the artist’s self-titled. Still, “Andrew Plays” is arguably the most important song in this collection, and Conti’s voice isn’t on it at all. It’s an instrumental track less than two minutes long. If music has the power to move you – or, more accurately, if you’ve managed to stay un-soul-hardened enough that the power of music is still able to reach you in 2025 – to not give this one a listen is to cheat oneself. “Andrew Plays” is on-par with such powerful, wordless movers as Cobain’s “Letters to Frances” and Ed Harcourt’s “Like Sunday, Like Rain.”
Renny Conti is a mature evolution from the artist’s 2020 “Figurines.” Five years later, this is that record’s older brother, who went away and got cooler and a little wiser and tucked some more experience and technical mastery under his belt. Now, he’s back in town, and everyone at the dive’s tugging on their friend’s shirt sleeves in a whispered chorus of “Do you know that guy? Who’s that guy over there?” Lookin good. Renny Conti is detail-oriented down to the cryptic, evocative cover art, promising subtle magic and mood swings that can give you jet lag. Cloudy romanticism meets eyelash-searing realism. Happily, the album totally delivers on that promise. Expect to hear more of the name Renny Conti.
You can listen to Renny Conti out on all platforms now!
Playing throughout the New York scene with friends, adding in cello and vocals wherever it may be needed, Tallen Gabriel is no stranger to the motion found deep within music and community. Captain Tallen & the Benevolent Entities is the Brooklyn-based project fronted by Gabriel, who as of today is sharing with us their new single, “Be So Nice”. This single marks the first release from their debut EP Easy, Then, set to be released May 2nd.
Introduced by a muted guitar, its fingerpicked pattern stagnant like drops of water on a hallow surface, Gabriel soon begins to collect a groove that lends itself to the emotional lens and stunning unravel of what it means to be wrapped up by sheer longing. Playing with the open space the group has so tactfully created, “Be So Nice” effortlessly shifts between conversational movements and drastic dynamic lifts, allowing the instrumentation to ground the track as harmonies swell and distorted accents rip through the landscape. At times their voice sounds mournful in its pacing, yet Gabriel’s deliverance is nothing short of empowering, bringing both a gripping presence and tender release to the here and now.
Listen to “Be So Nice” here!
Easy, Then is set to be released May 2nd via Sage Records.
President TV of the United States, the project of Terese Corbin, shared with us her latest single “Greatest” late last week. Having artistic roots that cover both Tallahassee, Florida and Asheville, North Carolina, the single comes as a one-off following the release of “I Love You” featuring Jordan Tomasello, as Corbin begins to find comfort in blending new forms of sonic production with her tender lyrical prose.
With steady drums and warm piano runs, “Greatest” sets its own pace within the still environment from which it was made from. The subtleness becomes its strength, as a swell of synths sweep us up into the song’s passion-fueled movement and the melodic grip of the whispered vocals that flow with persistence yet lay low as if to bare caution as to who may be listening in the peripherals. But it’s in these hushed displays that hold the melody, making Corbin’s presence the tension point in the track as we lean in for every word that hangs on with poetic intuition and personal reverence, always playing with the idea of potential release.
We recently got to ask Corbin a few questions about her project President TV of the United States and the story behind “Greatest” in our latest track deep dive.
the ugly hug: What sort of things were you inspired by when writing “Greatest”?
Terese Corbin: Sonically, “Greatest” kind of came out of thin air while messing around with the ambient and piano instruments on a free sound pack I was recommended. In that way I can’t say that I directly set out to make a song like this, but I recognize I was unconsciously inspired by the arrangements and strange moods of bands like Chanel Beads, PJ Harvey, Model/Actriz, even a little bit of Geordie Greep. I’m also totally obsessed with the album Morning Light by Locust, particularly the song No One In the World. If you know that song (and if you don’t, do yourself a favor and listen!) you might feel like there’s some 1:1 references in the instrumentation between that song and “Greatest”. But like I said, not at all an intention of mine, but just a product of that being the music language I’ve surrounded myself with.
My writing and my art in general draws from a couple of usual places, but honestly, most of the time I become obsessive about moments I’ve experienced and phrases I hear that ring around my head for a long, long time before I understand why. This is definitely the case for “Greatest” —the lyrics and the whole drive of the song come from a moment I shared with someone who I loved very much and who I knew loved me too. In an intimate moment, this person told me, “I’ll be Jesus, and you’re Mary Magdalene…And I’ll be at your deathbed.” Like, you can be the judge, but I think that’s an insane thing to hear lol. Especially in the context of that relationship, but also in general–it held so much weight and poetry but was said so simply, so truly. The phrase had stuck with me for reasons I couldn’t articulate at the time, but recently had been repeating in my brain over and over. I went to write it down and what came out was the first lines of the song: “Who was it that said that I was Mary Magdalene, you were Jesus, and you’d be there to see me at my deathbed? I don’t know….” The bookend of being uncertain and questioning the source of this phrase came out of me while writing it down, and was not the phrase as I’d been thinking for so long, nor part of the original memory. But that told me that both poetically and personally I wasn’t sure how many times I had heard something like this, or been subject to this exact situation in different relationships–or, even deeper, if I was just as guilty for assigning myself that role in the relationship as Mr. Jesus was. Which is just my favorite thing ever, probably my biggest inspiration, that being the moments where the music or the lyrics show itself to you, and it then becomes your job to be curious about it and find a structure and meaning for it. It’s like therapy, or like tricking yourself into figuring out what you’re so obsessed about. I definitely don’t try to intellectualize it at the beginning and just let phrases come to me, and once I’ve gotten a good chunk of those phrases I sift the meaning out and piece them together with bridging ideas.
UH: What weight did these religious allegories in the story hold for you? Especially in the context of a complex, and rather, challenging relationship.
TC: The allegory of Jesus comes from that moment I mentioned, and the realization of how true that sentiment was, not only in the relationship I shared with that person but honestly in so many of my intense (and particularly romantic) relationships. The song is about what happens when you fall in love with someone that is the Jesus of their environment or their art—someone (often a man) who is revered, someone who exudes endless love and friendship and encouragement in a true way to their community and in their work. When they funnel this into romance, it seems full and true, they see you for who you are and often this has to do with a shared art. But because they’re Jesus, it’s tumultuous, complicated. You rely on their love, but their greatness might stand in the way of being able to pursue that, or their righteousness or their inability to actually believe that you, the Mary Magdalene in the relationship, can be as great as them — “when I try my hand you hold it, say you understand my depth, but it scares you when you hear all of the wanting on my breath.” But that wanting—for the same greatness they’re pursuing, your desire for them and their love—was fed to you earlier in the song when they laid you down and gave you their blood, desire, and encouragement, and saw you for who you were—“I don’t know, but please lay me down and bring wine to my top lip, I seem to drink your wanting and the sound that it came with.” Mary is the thing that gets left behind when Jesus has to go be pure and Jesus, and it leaves a whole mess of complication. Mary always comes back though, and Jesus always lets her back, because their connection is addicting. I think there isn’t really a bad guy in the situation, I mean Jesus had to be Jesus after all. It’s just the way life and love goes… but it doesn’t mean I’m not going to write a song about it!
UH: The landscape that you create with the instrumentals and whispered vocals bring out these moments of tension and release. Where did you push yourself when engaging with this fuller sound? Was there anything outside of your comfort zone you were drawn to?
TC: I love that you describe the instrumentals as “tension and release,” because I think that relates to so many aspects of this song—the relationship it describes, the feeling it’s based on, and my experience making the song itself. I wanted to lean into the idea that there is a part of the song that is sort of danceable, or at least fun to drive really fast to. I just wanted to see how many textures I could fit into it—the distorted strings add this drama and greatness, but there’s also this strange little synth rhythm in there at the end for humor. I didn’t feel out of my comfort zone exactly, but I was definitely trying to embrace having fun with the music, especially because the lyrics are so confessional and dramatic. My therapist always suggests that in times where you can’t see your way out of thinking patterns that you should laugh at yourself, be like, “Girl, you’re being ridiculous,” and literally laugh at yourself out loud. I definitely have been trying to do this with my art, and it’s very easy to do it in music since it’s such a hobby and therapy for me and I have no bigger expectations for it.
UH: Has your relationship with the way you record music changed as you begin to focus on more dense instrumentals and sounds?
TC: This is such a good question, one I hadn’t really considered directly. “Greatest” was the first track I’ve ever made completely within Logic with software instruments, sans the vocals of course, and I have to say, it was a lot of fun. The freedom you get with a fully produced track is insane. The amount of control you’re afforded and the quality of the sound is really delightful and not necessarily simpler but in my experience easier than recording acoustic instruments. There is a fullness to the sounds I can create on my computer that I can’t do at my novice level with real-life instruments. I’m still at the point where I’m either recording from my phone and manually syncing it to the tracks or borrowing an interface (from one of my best friends and fellow artist Jordan Tomasello ;3… in the few hours of the day they’re not using it lol). So when I am drawn toward these deeper and fuller sounds I am most likely reaching for something electronic, even if I am pairing it with an acoustic instrument. I really like that this choice built from necessity—to combine acoustic and electronic—becomes a language of my work and a seemingly creative choice. Like I sort of touched on earlier, I love the process of music that comes to me or has to arrive to fix a problem that ends up shaping the meaning and larger structure of what it is I’m making and trying to say, and I think this has come out in the way I record my music as well.
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 Brooklyn-based singer-songwriter Annie Blackman.
With both a gripping passion and a keen eye, Annie Blackman lattices the incongruent feelings of heartbreak, insecurities and maturing into the most vivid and beautiful lyrical stories and folk-tinged songs. Her latest EP Bug released back in 2023 is a brief, yet poignant display of the casualties that often go unnoticed in the grand scheme of it all. But the butterflies in our stomachs ought to know something is up when Annie’s lyrical intuition blends irresistibility with the relatable scenarios she recites, like a fist bump before bed by a lover, that stings just as much as solidifies our own confusing and giddy emotions.
Listen to Annie’s playlist here;
You can listen to Bug and the rest of Annie’s music everywhere now!
Written by Shea Roney | Featured Photo by AleiaghHynds
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