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  • Virginia Creeper Embraces the Hidden Lore | Interview

    December 5th, 2024

    At the very bottom of the Virginia Creeper bandcamp page for their latest release, there is a Wikipedia link that takes you to the about of a cryptid-being known simply as the Loveland Frog. In its animated depiction, this limber amphibian stands on its hind legs, hunched over and stopped in its tracks at the end of a searchlight illuminating its presence – a riveting interpretation of a rather intriguing piece of Ohio folklore that still goes through the same rigmarole that both skeptics and believers hold to more well known beings like Bigfoot and Nessie.   

    Shea Roney: Can you tell me about the Loveland Frog? Why did you choose to include it along with the credits of the album? 

    Genevieve Poist: Yes! The Loveland frog is a cryptid that I am a fan of. We’re very pro-crypted in this band. We’re still trying to route our next tour so we can go to the Mothman Museum in West Virginia. There were a lot of little strange sounds and inside jokes and bits that made it into the record in different ways – we just recorded another album a few months ago, and the same thing happened actually – I think a lot of people do that. It’s the fun of making art obviously but I was trying to figure out how to appropriately acknowledge and credit them in the work. But I had been reading about the Loveland Frog, and specifically that rendering of the frog on the Wikipedia page, just really brought me into their whole aura. It’s fun to make the lore of the record lead to different lore, and one of my favorite things about being on the Internet is clicking and going down a trail somewhere, so I wanted to give that to whoever might find it.

    People Love the Dallas Cowboys Because They Want to Love Themselves artwork by Genevieve Poist

    Genevieve Poist fronts the Austin-based project Virginia Creeper, who after a few years of writing and touring, have finally released their long awaited debut record People Love the Dallas Cowboys Because They Want to Love Themselves. Beginning as a solo endeavor, Virginia Creeper has since become a cavalry of creatives – familiar faces out of the music scenes from the American South that have contributed to a wide range of beloved indie recordings and touring acts. As a whole, the album plays with a witty liveliness, finding its own pacing amongst memorable hooks, expansive instrumentation and charming stories of personality and community, establishing the core repertoire that Virginia Creeper has worked to compile over the years. But to Genevieve’s efforts, this project has become a force of understanding, where each track is a composite of both presence and perspective within the song’s lasting life and the people behind its creation.

    We recently caught up with Genevieve to discuss the new record, what it means to love yourself as well as the Dallas Cowboys and the act of finding and keeping the lore within art. 

    Photo by Tommy Reed ft. Aaron Zachary, Aaron Arguello, Marshall Pruitt, David Stimson, Genevieve Poist, Mason Parva, and Rosie the dog

    This interview has been edited for length and clarity

    SR: A lot of these songs on this record were written a handful of years ago. Can you give me a rundown on the timeline of making this record? 

    GP: The earliest songs on the record were probably written in late 2018 and into 2019 when I started playing with my friend Aaron Zachary (former Virginia Creeper member), and then at the end of 2019 is when we were thinking of recording a lot of these songs. But as everyone knows, we were supposed to start recording that weekend when the world shut down, so essentially that stretched and changed everything and we ended up writing and recording over 2020 and 2021, primarily at different intervals, so I would guess it was over four years.

    SR: So now that these old songs have finally gotten to see the light, some in which you have said marks a special time in the VC lore, in what ways are these songs representative of that time and are there moments in which you see you and the band growing with these songs?

    GP: Personally, for me as a songwriter, a lot of the subject matter that I was writing about or processing had to do with my mom passing away in 2019, so a lot of these songs, and even if it wasn’t directly about that by any means – the images and experiences – you know, were really concentrated in that universe. When you experience loss, you’re kind of writing about that forever, so I don’t really think that that’s necessarily going to change. But I do think that it was a very fresh and interesting place to be in relation to that event. And then, as a band and group of people working together collaboratively, the years around making this record were the first time a lot of us met, and not only began making music together, but even became friends. It kind of forged this musical and creative community that we have now with the current Virginia lineup, and then some other friendships and other musical projects that have come out of that. It was really unique and interesting to reflect back on how the different threads were woven together in that moment, I was trying to pay homage to whatever that was.

    SR: Can you tell me about the rotation of characters that make up Virginia Creeper? How did this lineup come to be and do they influence the songs you write? 

    GP: Before we started the process of writing and recording this record, Virginia Creeper was sort of just me, and then different collaborators that I had worked with at different moments in time throughout my life of making music under that moniker. But now, Virginia Creeper is very much a band, with the people that are in it, and then sort of this little rotating group of people that we’ve recorded with that are still playing with us sometimes, as well as just friends that were on the record. That for me was essentially the first time that I was collaborating with a group of people on stuff that I had initially made in private or independently, which was a really informative experience – definitely very positive and fruitful for me. I have always liked music because it’s an art form that is inherently collaborative. Whether it’s an audience, or you and other people, I feel like this is one of the first times that I really was living what had appealed to me.

    Virginia Creeper live set goose named Ginny (taken by our friend Giovanni Ventello)

    SR: Did there come a need to document or preserve that time of your life? And in that case, how did you approach that type of preservation of feelings and memories through your music?

    GP: I like this question because I feel like I am almost problematically obsessed with preservation and documentation. I definitely feel like a lot of my compulsion to create comes from an impulse to record, keep, or preserve a memory, especially with memories that seem really significant to me that are very vivid, but are maybe not accessible – maybe the other people that have lived those memories aren’t present anymore to reflect upon them with me, or maybe the memory itself is actually really sort of niche or minor. But for whatever reason my emotional connection to it feels really strong and I am really motivated, or compelled, to write those down or make something out of it through a song or other art forms. That is a big driving force for me, which also extends into other aspects of my life. My friends are always making fun of me because my phone doesn’t have any space on it, because I have like 40,000 voice messages and 50,000 pictures and I don’t delete my text messages, so there’s a physical reality to that issue as well. I have so many sentimental little objects that are probably considered trash by most people, but all of that to me feels really important to living life.

    SR: Yeah for sure, and on a personal level, this record revolves around some very intimate feelings of grief and identity. What have you found yourself embracing when bringing new life into these songs while also having the time to now grow with them before they were released?

    GP: I think a lot of the delay in releasing the music, I mean, it did take a long time to finish it, but then there was this time after the fact where I was grappling with like, ‘oh, this doesn’t seem to be a good representation of who I am, or who we are artistically right now’, and we were asking, ‘should we even release it?’ I don’t know if the rest of the people in the band felt as strongly, but you know, I think just by nature of me having the most familiarity with those songs, I think it was just harder for me to deal with it. And then when finally releasing the record, I didn’t really listen to the songs for a large period of time, and once it was released, revisiting them and talking to people about them kind of gave me this cool sort of bookmarking, like, ‘okay, we did that.’ And now you can kind of see, at least for me, how we got over here, and it’s nice to have this sort of thread that’s a visible record. I think it gave me an appreciation for being able to see a process and sort of have experience to think, ‘oh, I don’t know if I like that’, but then think, ‘okay, actually, I can see it with this removed lens to where I can appreciate it at a distance from myself a little bit.’ It feels nice.

    SR: Is there a different direction you’re thinking of going with your songwriting or are you just talking mainly about your emotional connection when you say it doesn’t feel like an accurate representation of where you are right now?

    GP: I think more so kind of just the sonic palette or genre. The music that we’re exploring as a band, and in a really reductive or simplistic way, those songs on that record and the music that I had released previously, a lot of it came from writing in a sort of limited space either by myself or not being able to be really loud. Since the time of that record’s creation, writing with the band and being able to play together resulted in different sonic terrains that we’re exploring in terms of being louder, or just having different clothes that it’s wearing. It’s not really that crazy different,  I mean, we play with different bills now, but I don’t really think it’s that wild.

    SR: So no glitch pop for Virginia Creeper? 

    GP: Well [laughs], we do play some various types of glitched beats in our live sets right now, but it’s not really glitch pop, it’s more just like a weird sample from the Internet that we manipulated and made sound weird. But who knows what’s next?

    SR: “People Love the Dallas Cowboys because They Want to Love Themselves” is obviously a very intriguing title. Being from Texas yourself, what was the inspiration for this phrasing and does this title ring true in your own life? 

    GP: Okay, first of all, I have a prop. I had a birthday party this weekend, and my friend Jason, who is basically where the phrase “people love the Dallas cowboys because they want to love themselves” came from in a conversation we were having once several years ago via text, he gave me this book for my birthday paying homage to the title, so I can’t wait to read about the outrageous history of the biggest, loudest, most hated, and best loved football team in America. The phrase is kind of about how people place a lot of their personal identity and self-worth in the things that they like, sort of why we have stan culture, where people get personally upset if you critique something that they’re interested in – that phenomenon is just really interesting to us and we’re trying to figure out why we do that and if it has intensified recently. Well, Jason and I were talking about how the Dallas Cowboys are sort of emblematic of that notion. Anyways, I’m not a Cowboys fan, so I like to antagonize Texas sports fans, especially football.

    But to your second question, I do think it’s true. I think most things that we love, we are loving because we’re wanting to be like them or we are seeing ourselves in them – it’s somehow connected to wanting to love ourselves or receive love ourselves in a way. So I do think that that is a true phrase, right now at least, but I’ll report back as time passes if I think differently.

    SR: You just finished a super brief tour recently? Was it the World Series themed tour? 

    GP: Yes it was! 

    SR: Not to keep the conversation on sports, but what a bummer that series was. What was that? 

    GP: Dude, I know. We joke that half of our songs that we play now are about baseball, so we’re always saying we’re a sports band. But yeah, it was such a bummer. Kyle’s really into baseball, and the rest of us have kind of embraced it when we’re all together. Yankees vs. Dodgers to begin with, is kind of the most lackluster series, and then the way that the series played out wasn’t even exciting, so it was kind of a downer.

    SR: You recently helped put together a compilation album called ATX x AVL with Love made of all Texas artists benefitting Hurricane Helene victims in western North Carolina. How did that compilation come to be, especially coming together so quickly? 

    GP: Well it started with Lindsey Verrell of Little Mazarren. They are always joking that they are self described ‘not good at the Internet’ [laughs] even though they’re way better than they think they are. So, they texted me with this idea, presented what they wanted to do, and then I sent out a call to as many people as I could think of that would be down. I think we messaged people on Thursday or Friday, and then got all of the submissions by  Tuesday morning, and then it was like a one week turnover which was awesome. I’m always kind of nervous asking people because it is kind of daunting to either record something new really quickly or find something and make sure you’re okay with putting it out. But people were super generous and excited about it, which was awesome. I’m continually very inspired by how active people are, whether it’s for Palestine and doing things to raise awareness and protest the genocide that’s happening, relief for the hurricane, or even a few years ago with a comp that we put something on for abortion access when a lot of that stuff got restricted. People’s industriousness and just willingness to do so much when most artists aren’t even making any money from the base level stuff that they’re doing – and then adding this on top of it – it’s just really inspiring.

    SR: I am such a fan of very niche concept compilation albums. I know that Toadstool Records just put out one that was all Beach Boys covers. 

    GP: Woah, that’s so cool! There’s just so much stuff that reminds me of how just much fun and play there is in making music, or any type of art for that matter. It’s all just a fun art project with your friends or people you know, and I think there’s such a pressure to make stuff so streamlined and presented and packaged in a certain way because of how stuff is right now, but anything that is deviating from that, or just like existing for the sake of existing because people wanted to do it, is just really refreshing.

    You can purchase People Love the Dallas Cowboys Because They Want to Love Themselves here as well as stream it on all platforms.

    Written by Shea Roney | Feature Photo by Jake Dapper

  • hemlock x ugly hug | Guest List vol. 35

    December 4th, 2024

    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 Carolina Chauffe of the project hemlock.

    Growing up in Lafayette, Louisiana, Carolina has been untethered to one place, letting opportunities decide where they move next as they plant roots from Louisiana to Texas, the Pacific Northwest and Chicago, spooling connections in every direction that their presence and spirit touches. This year brought us two hemlock releases, amen! and 444, each built on their own path of compassion and understanding of what it means to be a human being.

    About the playlist, Carolina shared;

    i appreciate the center of the venn diagram between the circles of “doves” and “songs”: frequently airborne, sometimes mourning, often stunning, sounding striking, among other things

    this collection of songs all contain a dove — in the lyrics, or the song title, or in a few cases, the sound of the bird’s call itself.

    i knew i wanted this playlist to be centered around birds, or a specific bird, in honor of shea’s (ugly hug founder’s) deep appreciation for them. playfully combining passions: music and feathered friends. 

    doves are a symbol i’ve drawn on most every note (“thank you”s and otherwise) that i’ve written, for long enough now that i can’t remember how it started. i draw them so frequently that they’ve become a sort of mascot that i’ve chosen to represent hemlock, as a sort of signature. besides being gorgeous creatures, i think they’re a powerful representation of hope and renewal. and i remember growing up with my dad talking to them in our yard, mimicking or conversing with them by whistling or by simply cupping his hands and blowing through them. how many mornings of mine have been met with the mourning dove’s call?

    it’s a fun challenge to create a playlist centered around a single specific word that still has that feeling of flow and cohesiveness. i’ve tried to do that here best i could, with “dove.” there are a couple of double-ups where two versions of the same song felt apt. thanks to the many friends and inspirations who wrote songs with doves within. and many thanks to a few friends’ recommendations that slid their way into this mix as well – glad for community that can see so clearly where my own blind spots can’t.

    honorable mentions (unavailable on spotify): “mourning dove” by sleep habits and “time as a symptom” by joanna newsom

    Listen to the playlist here!

    written by shea roney | featured photo by kurtis watson

  • Audiotree Presents: Chicago Community Fest 11/30/24

    November 27th, 2024

    This Saturday, November 30th, Audiotree is partnering up with the surrounding community of Chicago to bring you the first ever Chicago Community Festival at Schubas Tavern. The festival will have performances by Sleeper’s Bell, Morgan Powers, Radium Girl, Memory Cell, Orisun.

    Chicago Community Fest is a project dedicated to highlighting local and regional artists, created by Malcolm Riordan and produced in partnership with Audiotree & Schubas Tavern. These 5 bands exemplify the true independent excellence the Chicago music world is known for.

    7:30PM Doors | 8PM Show 18+ 11/30/24 @ Schubas Tavern, 3159 N. Southport, Chicago, IL 

    Purchase Tickets here!

  • Squirrel Flower x ugly hug | Guest List vol. 34

    November 27th, 2024

    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 Ella Williams of the Chicago based project, Squirrel Flower.

    Squirrel Flower has become a monumental project in the Chicago scene and beyond, not just in the case of sharing beloved releases like 2023’s critically acclaimed album Tomorrow’s Fire or 2020’s I Was Born Swimming, but also as an example of what community should and can be, including being the first artist to pull out of SXSW due to their ties to the defense industry and in support of the Palestinian people. Ella’s writing has always been one of defiance and accessibility, a precursor to keep moving forward even when everything feels so inhibiting and cruel. Yet, at its core, Squirrel Flower blends this confrontation with curiosity, taking personal confessionals through dynamic instrumentation and haunting melodies to lure out the beauty that still exists all around us in the world.

    Along with her playlist, Ella shares;

    these are songs that i’ve been listening to a lot over the last few months. mostly gentle, warm music that’ll hug you and help you get through~~~~ peace+love

    Listen to her playlist here!

    Earlier this year, Squirrel Flower released a cover of Neil Young’s “Cortez The Killer” recorded live in Austin, Texas at an unofficial sxsw showcase. The track includes performances by Alex Peterson (alexalone), Greg Freeman, Dimitri Giannopolous (Horse Jumper of Love), Travis Harrington (Truth Club), Michael Cantella, and Kai Wilde (Teethe). Listen to it here.

    Written by Shea Roney | Featured Photo by Alexa Viscius

  • The Fruit Trees Open the Windows to Let the Breeze Blow In | Interview

    November 26th, 2024

    The Fruit Trees is the moniker of California songwriter and multi-instrumentalist Johnny Rafter, who upon releasing his debut record Weather in 2023, quickly followed it with We Could Lie Down in the Grass, the hour-long, 24 track sophomore record that rang in the end of summer this year.

    Although these tunes feel worn in, The Fruit Trees, and Johnny’s writing in that case, is still a rather fresh journey, but also one of exposure and accessibility – a place to step in and step out and come back around much wiser. Like a small collection of bugs, gently caught and kept in a rinsed out pickle jar, We Could Lie Down in the Grass captures and culminates curiosity towards the most minute details that surround Johnny’s day-to-day. As the glass tinkers and buzzes with life, experimental folk voicings playing amongst warm melodies and memorable structures, this little ecosystem grows with each additional moth or pill bug – each witty one-liner or field recording – as these songs become part of a much larger story.

    Through email correspondence, Johnny took the time to answer a few of our questions about We Could Lie Down in the Grass, finding placement in his changing world and embracing all bits of creativity. 

    Photo by Hannah Ford-Monroe

    Shea Roney: We Could Lie Down in the Grass is your second album in just a little over a year. In what ways do you find comfort in your writing process that you can still rely on, as well as where did you find yourself changing course and trying something new when compared to your process on Weather?

    Johnny Rafter: My writing and recording practices sort of feed into each other. Usually I find some chords and see what feelings or images they unearth. That leads to maybe a word or two, and then the lyrics spiral out from there. I find it awkward to write words separately and just sing them over chords. It’s nice to feel like the words sort of blossomed out of the music and it feels better to sing words like that for some reason… 

    My writing seems to naturally go towards simple language, the passing seasons and my own blurry sense of the inner and outer world. Working alone, it can be challenging to record songs in ways that feel organic and have a sense of performance, but I tried to strive for that this time. My lack of musical understanding and skill makes mistakes and messiness inevitable, so I try to embrace it and allow things to be loose.

    This time I was a little more competent at recording, so I spent less time digging through the internet trying to figure out what compressors do. There was more of a leisurely flow to the work… I think that helped me access more resonant ideas without getting tripped up on technical stuff…  It might be worth saying that my first album Weather was my first time writing songs and recording, so it’s kind of a messy testament of my own learning and curiosity about songs and recording. This new album was a continuation of that but with a little more confidence and momentum. I think the songwriting on this second album is more potent and direct.

    SR: We Could Lie Down in the Grass is a rather extensive project, 24 songs and running over an hour long, yet still flows naturally amongst themes and sounds that create a welcoming and unique environment. What do you think this album was able to accomplish in part due to its length? 

    JR: I’m glad that it comes off as cohesive! And has a flow to it… I didn’t really think about the length… It was just— “Well these are all the songs that came to me over the past year”. It would’ve felt strange to release them separately or never at all. I think it’s good to just release stuff so you can move on and not overthink it. I’ve been trying to embrace “good enough” and “might as well”.

    I’ve tried to make writing and recording a casual part of my daily life. Something lightweight I can work on at home after work and on days off (I was inspired by Kieran Hebden’s approach “good music is about ideas not gear”; also I heard the poet CA Conrad suggest trying to write poems at your job— fitting it into the reality of your life and not waiting for some ideal situation). The advantage of that is you can make a lot of work, even if the production value might never compare to studio recordings. I think of the songs more like drawings in a sketchbook or collages — something handmade and imperfect. So this was just a longer sketchbook.

    I tried to interweave the lyrics with images, ideas and words across the different songs. At some point I started to see the whole album as one long text, so it made sense to have the songs speak to each other. With the length, I was able to explore lots of approaches to making songs and just try lots of fun stuff. The process is the good part for me, though it’s cool when the fog burns off and you get to look back at everything you made as a whole. Some people told me to cut songs, but honestly it didn’t feel like it mattered. For my own emotional wellbeing, I need to stay in a 100% hobby mindset and put zero pressure on myself. So there’s no right way to go about things. I’d just like to keep writing songs as a lifelong practice/process and be unfettered about it and see where it goes. 

    SR: The Fruit Trees is taken on as a mostly solo endeavor, although you worked with a handful of others to complete this record. Where did you find your vision for this album enhanced by the people who helped work on some of the parts? How is that different from going fully solo to you and your creative vision?

    JR: When I started a few years ago, I didn’t know anyone making music, and I’d never been part of a music scene or anything like that. So just out of necessity I recorded and mixed myself. Naming it “The Fruit Trees” was in hopes that it would turn into more of a collective situation. The hope with the first album was that maybe if I made something interesting enough it would help me find people to make music with. 

    Luckily that’s been my experience— The songs sort of feel like magic spells or beacons that have brought me closer to people after a pretty lonely chapter of my life. Over the past year new friends and bandmates have sort of come into my life in a beautiful way. I think that’s an awesome thing about sharing your art even if it’s on a casual local level, it opens up life a lot.

    But yeah, the collaborations so far have been kind of light, and my intention is that future albums will have deeper collaborations. My awesome friend Ben (who plays bass in our band) and I have a really close friendship that’s slowly turning into a deeper musical collaboration. I’ve realized you can’t rush these things. I think it has to be based in friendship and trust, and also you gotta work with people who make you laugh!

    SR: There are a lot of instances where you piece together field recordings, almost making this album sound like a found footage video of the world around you. What did setting mean to you when piecing this album together? Were there any throughlines that you tried to build through themes and environment? 

    JR: I definitely hope to create some sense of an environment or a space— like an album as a place you can go for a while. For this album I imagined an old house and the songs were in different parts of the house like the kitchen and the yard and the porch and the attic. Some of the songs are down the street.

    One way I felt like I could have the world permeate the songs was to include some field recordings from my life. Like opening the windows and letting the wind blow in. I love sounds… Like just sitting in the park and hearing the different sounds— the wind, the birds, the engines, the voices and the ways those are perpetually changing and interacting in new ways. The surrounding environment is sort of always bleeding into my inner experience (or maybe it’s the other way around?) and so I think I try to create a similar sense in my recordings.

    SR: Each song feels like its own moment that can be expressed in a million different fleeting feelings, yet your writing is so concise in its expression. Were there any stories or feelings that you found difficult to articulate when writing, and did fleshing them out through the process help define their meaning further in any way? What were some of your favorite stories to tell?

    JR: It feels risky to write sincerely and simply. That feels scarier to me than ironic distance and wit, but possibly more important nowadays… That being said, I hope to find a sense of whimsy in the songs, so there’s heaviness and levity happening at the same time.

    Honestly writing songs is also just so cathartic and fun, and it does help me make some meaning of my confusing little life. I hope to not only write from that therapeutic place but also imagination and humor and things like that. Not just about me and my turbulent inner life but also about how wonder and pain-filled the world is.

    The song Collar was a favorite— it was based on a neighborhood dog I saw that wasn’t looking so good. I was really worried about it, and this little story from the dog’s perspective appeared in my mind. To me it feels like a fairytale or a fable or like a tarot card which I like. I hope that dog’s okay.

    Photo by Hannah Ford-Monroe

    SR: Continuing, the articulation of singular moments, the feelings and images that you bring a focus to, are often moments overlooked that hold a sense of beauty and an edge to what it means to simply be alive. Do you find that there is a consciousness in your creative worldview that embraces this simple beauty, or does it come from some sort of disconnect that needs to be tied together again to build that clearer picture? 

    JR: That’s cool it comes across that way. I think perhaps it is branching out from whatever my worldview is and from the way I try to live— appreciating smallness and the mundane everyday life stuff, paying attention to my senses and how we don’t really need that much to be content. How the best things are simple like sharing time with people and eating food, or playing frisbee. Joy is always there underneath. But I also go through waves of horrible feelings of loneliness and disconnection, dissatisfaction, fragmentation, grief, separation, shame… I guess the interplay of those different states creates a lot to explore. There’s a lot of paradoxical things to hold all at once, and I think songs are good for exploring that.

    SR: There is an element of timelessness that floats through this record, both in style and writing, that a lot of people gravitate towards when they listen to your music. Do you find any sense of preservation in your work, whether that be of memory, stories, people or places? And if so, do you personally feel a need, or an obligation, to make something that will be long lasting? 

    JR: Honestly I don’t think about making things long lasting. I guess some people want to make art or achieve greatness or whatever so after they die there’s something left of them? I don’t really care about that, and it seems like a sick pressure to put on yourself. I remember a line from the Tao Te Ching that was like “To live as long as you live and then die is enough”. Plus things I make don’t really feel like “me” anyways. 

    But on some level I guess I do see it as sort of residual evidence of who I was, what I felt, what I saw, where I was, etc. I think I fear wasting my time, not in a productivity sense, but not living fully enough— dissociating and missing the actual details and reality of my life. Maybe making songs is a way to help me pay attention and ask questions, and a way to stay a little weird. It sort of feels like gathering a bunch of small beautiful things into a basket and then leaving it on a friend’s doorstep. I just enjoy the gathering and the giving… It does seem like an interesting experiment to sustain this as a lifelong practice and then get to look back at all these words and sounds. A lifetime of music and poetry!! 

    SR: What’s next for The Fruit Trees? 

    JR: Waking up before dawn; time in and around bodies of water; playing more shows; I’m gonna go see Simon Joyner next week; also Agriculture; an ambient/instrumental album is almost done (a collaboration between me and Ben); two more albums in conceptland— one is a full band sort of indie rock album and the other is a classical guitar based album in a tuning I made up that I’d like to record somewhere with snow; lots of biking around, soaking up the sun and getting as silly as possible; making lots of soup; a small Pacific Northwest tour with our friend Ash’s band Swinging next January; doing chores; baking bread.

    You can now purchase cassettes of We Could Lie Down in the Grass via Jon Shina’s label, Flower Sounds out of Greenfield, MA. Find more of their releases and curations here.

    Written by Shea Roney | Photos by Hannah Ford-Monroe

  • Olivia’s World x ugly hug | Guest List vol. 33

    November 20th, 2024

    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 Alice Rezende of Canberra, Australia based group, Olivia’s World.

    With a blend of twee antiquity and garage rock grit, Olivia’s World exists within an escapist reality, one rooted in perspective and endearing absurdity. Along with Alice, the original trio consists of Joe Saxby on bass and Rose Melberg (Tiger Trap, The Softies, Go Sailor, Knife Pleats) on drums, but as they continue to grow, touring across Australia, Olivia’s World now functions with open collaborations, reeling in indie-pop charmers from all over. With two EPs out, Olivia’s World EP and Tuff 2B Tender, Alice and co. are preparing to release their debut full length album early next year.

    Along with the playlist, Alice shared a blurb;

    As you can tell by the title, I’ve been maxx-dosing on those Carl Jung pills. It all happened after we recorded the Olivia’s World album this year. I had to reckon pretty hard with the chasm between my waking life and my dream life and start thinking of more productive ways to integrate my shadow which is actually my fun rock ‘n’ roll side. 

    Initially when putting the playlist together I was thinking of the subjective projections we cast over songs. How indulgent!! These songs resonate with my shadow 110%!! There’s lots of new stuff and some vintage stuff, like the sexy ‘Slammer’ by Tuff Love. There’s a heap of dreamcore songs, like ‘Holden’ by nara’s room and the dream recount in ‘River Valley Road’ by The Drivers. There’s heaps of songs made by my Vancouver and Vancouver-adjacent friends whom I love and miss. And sick Aussie bands like Sylvia and Dumbells. Enjoy! Olivia’s World debut album Greedy and gorgeous will be out in early 2025!!


    Find Alice’s playlist here on bndcmpr; jungian shadow work!

    Check out Lost Sound Tapes’ catalog here!

    Written by Shea Roney | Photo used with permission from Olivia’s World

  • Avery Friedman Finds New Life on Debut Single “Flowers Fell” | Single

    November 19th, 2024

    Today, Brooklyn-based singer-songwriter Avery Friedman shares her long awaited debut single, “Flowers Fell”. Having frequented bills with artists such as Sister. and Dead Gowns for the past year, Friedman has consistently left an impression on those that have caught her sets, oftentimes performing solo, creating a space in which her vivid imagery and tender melodies greet new ears with welcome and understanding. Produced by James Chrisman (Sister.) and with contributions from Felix Walworth (Told Slant, Florist), “Flowers Fell” plays to the in-between moments as Friedman defines new beginnings. 

    Photo by Mamie Heldman

    “Flowers Fell” begins in a reverberated haze, rearing guitars and diluted vocals hold their breath, awaiting that very first line that Friedman drives out— “The flowers fell off when I was asleep / But it’s okay ’cause now its all green” — blindsided, but not disappointed.  Soon the chorus becomes definite, Friedman’s vocals wield both strength and tenderness as the melody leads with its whole chest and instrumentation follows in a potent groove. “How long can you mourn for something that was always supposed to blossom into something stronger?” Friedman asks in a statement — a combination of both grief and vitality. As the song begins to close out, the ghosts of distortion and the swarming of sonic fixations underneath begin to blend, holding the surrounding static accountable as a full picture begins to clear up.

    “Flowers Fell” is accompanied by a music video, directed, filmed, VFX, and handwritten lyrical text by Nara Avakian. Watch it here.

    You can stream “Flowers Fell” on all platforms now.

    Written by Shea Roney | Single Cover Photo by Mamie Heldman

  • Daneshevskaya Keeps Moving Forward, Talks New Single “Scrooge” | Interview

    November 19th, 2024

    “The first two years that we were performing,” Beckerman recalls, “the nerves were pretty unmanageable before every single performance because I had the worst stage fright,” a level of exhaustion still remnant in the corners of these memories as she speaks. “But I feel like I’m finally getting to the point where I’m not getting butterflies just from waking up that whole week before I perform — I’ve grown a lot, thank goodness.” 

    Daneshevskaya is the project of Brooklyn-based artist, Anna Beckerman, whose namesake derives from her own middle name, one in which she shares with her great-grandmother. Having since released her debut album, Long Is The Tunnel late last year via New York label Winspear, an album in which presence and perspective become intertwined within her own story, Beckerman’s writing has always been one to cherish self-discovery. As she continues in her career, “the more I write lyrics, the more I get closer to what I’m really trying to say,” she conveys, speaking towards her practice. “I don’t know what it is I’m trying to say, but I think I’m getting closer.”

    Today, Daneshevskaya returns with “Scrooge”, the first bit of new music since Long Is The Tunnel and a revitalization of an earlier song she recorded and released under the project name back in 2018. Fractured by the cruelty of romantics, Beckerman and collaborators set a benchmark for retainment, where stillness isn’t an option as melodies coincide and collapse, strings gasp at the vivid imagery at hand and playful keys tiptoe around as if not to disturb the surface. Although the lyrics have not seen any changes – the emotion still fervent and raw – “Scrooge” becomes a moment of admiration for what was left untouched, while still recognizing how far she has come since. 

    The ugly hug recently sat down with Beckerman to discuss “Scrooge”, looking past the “cringe” of earlier works, and what she has learned from an openly collaborative career. 

    Photo by Madeline Leshner

    This interview has been edited for length and clarity. 

    Shea Roney: I can’t believe it has already been a year since Long Is The Tunnel was released. Are you still riding the high from the attention that album received?

    Anna Beckerman: I get so much anxiety from releasing and promoting music that I feel like it took me a while after it was released to be like, ‘oh, wait, I’m proud of that! I’m excited, and I’m proud.’ It’s so crazy to make music and then see people I don’t know posting stuff about it and telling other people to listen to it – so it took me some time to get over myself and enjoy what I had made.

    SR: You have a new single called “Scrooge”, which is actually a newly recorded version of an older song released a handful of years ago. What made you want to return to this song now? 

    AB: Yes, it was released back in 2018. We had worked on the song and I think we submitted to maybe a hundred SubmitHubs or whatever, and got like a hundred rejections. We always really liked it though, I remember being really proud of it. We all saw that we had this opportunity to re-record the parts of it that always bothered us and give it another go and see if it would reach more people, especially now that we have more support releasing it. Going into it, we knew we wouldn’t record it that same way now, where it had been done kind of chopped up and with different people, so it was nice to get to make it in the way that felt right, and work with the people who I wanna work with.

    SR: Although it is a fairly older song, do you feel like it still resonates with you on that same level?  

    AB: I feel like my whole life has been making stuff and then looking back on it a few years later and thinking, ‘I can’t believe I ever thought that was cool’ [laughs]. I can’t imagine having as much access to showing people things as kids have now. I was making the stupidest, most indulgent, disconnected and self absorbed stuff, but showing it to no one because there was nothing to do with it. Oh, God, the YouTube videos I would have to look back on if I had had that kind of access back then. But that being said, it was convenient that it was the first thing I ever made and somehow I don’t look back on it and think that I would never make this now. I probably would make something like that still, or even, maybe I’ll never make something like that again, because it was something I did, and now it’s done. But I still have a lot of respect for it, and the lyrics don’t make me cringe, which is a true test.

    SR: I fully believe you need those cringy moments though. Little testaments to keep yourself in check.

    AB: Oh, yeah, you gotta remind yourself [laughs]. I also took a bunch of poetry classes in college, and I feel like the whole point of those workshops is to just make cringy stuff. Sometimes I do go back and read what I wrote when I was a freshman in college, and I just think, ‘…oh.’

    Photo by Madeline Leshner

    SR: You have always written with such vivid imagery, but this song feels unique, in that it deals with varying moments of proximity and presence. You build this focus from a very intimate lens that feels very hands on, yet you manage to create this growing distance between yourself and “Scrooge”. Was this a challenging feat when writing, and why did you want to tell the story this way?

    AB: I think in general, when I listen to music, I really like lyrics that are kind of familiar, but also feel strange. When writing this song, I was just really sad [laughs], so when I have a loss or something leaves my life, I feel like I have a rush to write things down so that I remember. A lot of the first EP, Bury Your Horses, I was dealing with how weird it is to know someone and then not know them anymore, and how that is such a bizarre feeling, even more so than feeling something sad or melancholy – I just feel like it’s so weird. I don’t know, my brain just couldn’t really wrap around it, so I feel like the lyrics are a way for me to put it all out there and just be okay that it’s weird.

    SR: The character himself, Ebenezer Scrooge, is textbook villain, but is also a very dynamic character. What was the inspiration of choosing him as a placeholder for someone you knew personally? 

    AB: Part of it was that it fit into the amount of syllables that I needed [laughs]. I wish that there was a more interesting explanation, but I just thought of the first thing that comes to mind when I think of a villain, or someone who’s just clearly a bad guy, even though I was kind of aware while I was in it that this person isn’t actually bad, even though I was so upset and hurt – it almost felt fake. 

    SR: EB-EN-EZ-ER.

    AB: Yeah, it has more syllables than most other villains. What’s that one? Thanos? That’s not good. And it was interesting, because the chorus of the song I had written before my breakup was about being with someone, and then seeing them from a different lens and then feeling that distance from them. And then we broke up, and I was like, ‘no, this still applies [laughs], it still works. I still feel what I said.’

    SR: Did you find yourself grappling with the honesty of persevering those feelings that this relationship brought out while writing this song?

    AB: I always struggle with being scared that my lyrics will be too specific and they’ll end up seeming precious or something. But I also don’t want things to be so vague that they don’t resonate with people because they’re not specific enough. I was also really angry when I wrote this song and the song itself obviously isn’t – it’s very ‘La la’ indie folk, so it doesn’t come across super angry. But I always loved the Elliott Smith songs where he’s really angry but it’s kind of a cute song, and it takes a few listens to be like, ‘oh, you’re really pissed right now.’ It’s like a little bit of that, and also just thinking that if this person hears this song, maybe only they’ll know that I’m angry. Everyone else might think it’s a cutesy song, but the person who I wrote it about will know that I’m angry. In that way I was trying to be honest.

    SR: Your work up to this point has been a very communal effort, bringing in a lot of friends to help contribute and create this rather spiritual effect in your music. What kinds of things have you learned from your collaborators that you hold dear to your heart as you go on? 

    AB: First of all, nothing I’ve ever done in music I could have done without the amazing musicians all around me who can do everything. I’m very aware of how lucky I am to have people I get to make music with, and who genuinely want to be doing it. I think that’s the only thing that has kept me in music for so long now. That being said, the best thing you can get from someone giving you feedback is not always the feedback, but the way that they look at music as what sticks with you. The next time you make music, you’ll have a little voice in your head of one person saying ‘maybe you could try a different voicing’, and then there’s another person saying, ‘do you need that many words?’ All of those voices are me, but they’re also a product of the people that I have worked with through the years. 

    Watch the music video for “Scrooge”, directed by Madeline Leshner, here.

    “Scrooge” was made with the help of co-collaborators Madeline Leshner, Artur Szerejko and produced by Marcus Paquin (The Weather Station, The National, Julia Jacklin). You can now stream it on all platforms.

    Daneshevskaya will be headlining Brooklyn’s Baby’s All Right on Friday, December 13th. Get tickets here.

    Written by Shea Roney | Featured Photo by Madeline Leshner

  • Hour Shares Two New Songs From ‘Ease the Work’ Sessions | Single

    November 14th, 2024

    Earlier this year, the Philadelphia instrumental ensemble Hour released their latest album, Ease the Work, a collection that soars with dynamism and passion, striking both communal and critical acclaim across the board. Made up of ten multi-instrumentalist who perform and record live, Hour is composed and produced by leader Michael Cormier-O’Leary (Friendship, 2nd Grade, Dear Life Records). Today, the group returns with two new songs “Saturday After Payday” and “Absence is a Heady Spice”.

    Photo by Michael Cormier-O’Leary

    These two songs were recorded as part of the Ease the Work recording session at the Greenwood Playhouse on Peaks Island, off the coast of Portland, Maine, in which the group had to take a ferry to get to with an entire studios worth of equipment. The songs were ultimately left off of the album, yet remained a solid pairing to be released at a separate time.

    Playing with a tempered progression, “Saturday After Payday” begins with a steady piano, undeterred with its direction as a string quartet and an electric bass add a firm, yet suave voicing. The track was recorded live by an eight piece iteration, and is “indebted to the work of some classic French pop arrangers, most notedly Jean-Claude Vannier.”

    Like the old family heirloom pianos, “Absence is a Heady Spice” holds weight within the simplicity and unevenness, each note played is met by a release – the tension of the sticky keys relieving pressure from the years of use on the piano’s inner workings. “Being the only solo piano piece in a collection of compositions for large ensemble,” Cormier-O’Leary says, “I thought it was funny to name the piece “Absence is a Heady Spice”. Like, ‘where’d the band go?’”

    “Saturday After Payday” and “Absence is a Heady Spice” are now available to stream on all platforms. Purchase the two songs here.

    Hour is made up of Jason Calhoun (synth), Michael Cormier-O’Leary (guitar, percussion), Em Downing (violin), Matt Fox (viola), Elisabeth Fuchsia (violin), Peter Gill (bass), Lucas Knapp (radio effects, field recordings, piano), Evan McGonagill (cello), Peter McLaughlin (drums), Keith J. Nelson (bass clarinet, clarinet), Erika Nininger (piano, rhodes) and Abi Reimold (electric guitar).

    You can purchase Ease the Work via Dear Life Records.

    Written by Shea Roney

  • Matching Outfits x ugly hug | Guest List vol. 32

    November 13th, 2024

    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 Berlin-based group, Matching Outfits.

    Matching Outfits is the trio of Linnea Mårtensson, Rachel Glassberg and Leah Corper, whose wistful and imaginative take on lo-fi indie-pop music is an absorbing experience. With an array of bright keyboard voicings and ecstatic three-part harmonies, the fun is further brought out by their attention to details. Leading with curiosity, anecdotes from life’s tough moments, the trio embraces the deadpan humor and emotional wit of the stories they tell, where grievances and celebrations are blended into discordant freak-outs and shout-along choruses. And to be clear, given in a statement, “the band does not wear matching outfits, except when they do.”

    Along with their playlist, the group shared this blurb;

    You may hear the words ‘Berlin music scene’ and think techno, latex and drugs. And it is that (probably – we don’t go clubbing much). But it’s also freak folk, post-punk and yacht rock, played by and for a bunch of international misfits in sweaty basements.

    It’s that Berlin scene that brought us together and continues to be a big inspiration for us as a band. We’re celebrating it with a list of songs by friends, collaborators and other local stars that we hope will give you a new perspective on the German capital. You can even dance to some of them.

    Honorable mention goes to two of our favorites, Slipper and Dusty Houseplants, whose music you can find on Bandcamp.

    Matching Outfits released their debut record Band Made Out Of Sand back in 2022 with the Berlin cassette label Kitchen Leg. Listen to it here!

    Written by Shea Roney | Photo given with permission of Matching Outfits

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