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 Or Best Offer
Days short of two years ago, Or Best Offer shared the project’s first official record. Composed of seven tracks that stretch, bleed and bend into one holistic experience, Center is a testament to the Brooklyn-based project’s expansive curiosity and experimental knack for texture. Center can be cold, provoked, and industrial at times, and warm and delicate at others; though these juxtapositions waver in the contrast they invite. Sometimes it feels abrupt, and sometimes the line between their differences blurs so thin you wonder if it truly exists at all. It is a beautiful and unsettling experience; eliciting a kind of familiar existential discomfort that truly can only be articulated and purged through nonverbal mediums.
About the playlist, Or Best Offer shared;
songs i find true & beautiful that to me embody mid winter feverishness, heavily featuring music I’m most excited about coming out of the northeast right now.
Last month, Brooklyn and Philly based tape-meca enthusiast label Solid Melts released what is the second volume of the Solid Melts compilation. Run by Drew M Gibson and Scott Palocsik, this collection compiles 15-tracks of friends old and new, and coming on the tail of vol. 1 released back in the heat of June.
Solid Melts vol. 2 includes artists such as Cal Fish, Two Steppes, Wav Waster, GODDESS COMPLEX, Fred Thomas and many more, collecting looped fixations, electronic tinkerings, chromatic releases and folk-based explorations that celebrate over a decade of music and collaboration.
SkyScrapper – Fauxs
Romantic States – Home of the Strange
Cal Fish – Lost Season 8
Two Steppes – The Unruly Apprentice
Some of Mine – Pufferfish
Wav Waster – Binary Pulses
Wallfacer – Daddy’s Little Dipshit
Quartz Casino – 79th PRECINCT BLUES (DEMO)
GODDESS COMPLEX – Keep Your Eyes Shut
BOATZ – RC Soda
Dean Essner – Happy Hunting
Fred Thomas – Evil People
Sug – Afterbirth
Opening Bell – Throop Dreams
AFTERLIFE – SANGRE
You can purchase SOLID MELTS vol. 2 now on bandcamp, as well as listen to its entirety on YouTube.
Written by Shea Roney | Photos Courtesy of Featured Bands
On Thursday, January 22nd, the ugly hug will host our next showcase at Ramova Loft in Chicago with Yin Waster, Petsit and Ava Brennan in collab with The Apartment and Soinso Zine. Tickets are $10 in advance and $15 day of show with doors opening at 6:30pm and show at 7:00pm.
We recently got to interview each of our featured artists on this bill in preparation for the show.
Last month, Petsit released their beloved self-titled debut album, one in which the band has been compiling for the past couple of years. As a collaborative unit, showcasing members Jim, Nick, Layton, and Sam as contributing songwriters, Petsit harness the meaningful sonic spells and the interchangeable fidelities that play to each of their own strengths as musicians. With a keen eye for some ruckus, wonder and observational obscurity, Petsit revels in its natural cadence, like banter tossed back and forth with a friend, where the stories they tell are full of trust and encouragement to join in.
You all just released your highly anticipated debut album, Petsit. What did it take to get to this moment? What does it mean to you to get this record out there?
Jim: Once we were recording we were drawing on two years of playing together, and each of our individual histories of musicmaking, so capturing that moment when we were all able to come together and put to wax something we’d put a lot of collective hours was important to all of us. Now that it’s out it feels less weighty in a way, in a cool and weird way. Its awesome though, to have the album out and share it with people and be like well here ya go, this is our music.
How did Petsit come into existence? Have your goals or expectations of what you want this project to be changed at all over time?
Jim: I moved back with my parents in Omaha for a summer and some change after college and started playing with Nick again (we were in a band together in high school). I moved in with Layton and our friend Nat who plays piano on a couple songs on Petsit. Our place had an extra room so Nick also moved to Chicago shortly after me. Layton and Nat played in a band called Blinker with Sam, who I had known previously and at one point shared a studio apartment with, and boomshakalaka, Petsit. Starting out we played a lot of shows at Archie’s Cafe, RIP.
As far as expectations go I do think our standards for the music have gotten higher in a really natural feeling way as we’ve played together more and more. After releasing the album our goals have been to record more music and explore that process more just because the first time was so enlivening.
Nick: Petsit has always come from a very organic place that compliments each of our respective playing styles. From its birth, there has never been an explicit desire to take the project in any particular direction, rather focusing on the long term friendships and our combined appetite for a good jam sesh. As a result, the band stays pretty busy, experiencing very little resistance in finding the time and energy to continue collaborating!
Every member is credited for writing these songs. What was the writing and recording process like for this record? How does Petsit work as a unit to share ideas?
Layton: Recording and producing a record was new for us. We all like to improvise and will play slightly different versions of our songs from show to show, so to set something in stone as a “final version” felt difficult for a bit. Recording did allow a lot of room for the songs to expand past what 4 people could play live, though, and that was really fun. We got to experiment with adding some flair to different songs, stuff like piano, violin, or synth and brought friends in to add some parts too. Those additions are some of my favorite moments on the album.
Jim: This is the part that necessitates a shoutout to one Cole Makuch, who recorded the album with us in our basement with his equipment. His expertise made the recording go smoothly and his presence made it go fun-ly. He also mixed the whole album, so yeah shoutout Cole.
Having played live shows for a few years now, did that translate over at all? Did you want to try anything new?
Jim: Yes, most of the songs on Petsit we’d been playing together for a while, a couple years say, and we recorded playing together live so the songs are presented pretty similarly to how we play them live. That being said, recording provided a good reflection point to make choices for songs that we’d been playing a while in a way that improved them from then onward. “In the Park” became more ballad-y when we went to record it because we were approaching from a recording mindset rather than for the live show which can at times fall into traps of keeping the energy level kind of the same in the interest of a cohesive set. So that was a learning experience and something that maybe we will play with going forward, be open to more natural variation.
Nick: We are always open to opportunities, and we share an immense appreciation for supporting other friend’s projects, local bands, and artists alike. A lot of our inspiration as a band comes from the rich and seemingly endless amount of talent found here in our local scene. If there is a local band or artist performing, there is a good chance you will see at least one of our faces in the crowd.
What’s on the horizon for Petsit?
Layton: Hopefully some touring of the US, continuing to hone our sound, working on a new record, hosting more DIY shows at our house and hanging out a lot.Jim: Ugly Hug Showcase at Ramova Loft on January 22nd with Yin Waster and Ava Brennan. Lets goo.
Yin Waster, the Chicago-based duo of Griffin Mang and Gabe Huff formed back in 2017, is a psychedelic composition of “Gas Station Folk” and hot-n-ready grooves. With deep, rich riffs that flow like the sleepy drip of Speedway coffee into a paper cup, the duo creates an atmosphere that is gritty, rhythmic and sincere. Last May, Yin Waster shared their latest EP, Every Garden Needs a Dog, this strange yet endearing collection of songs that weigh heavy in the moment, like a smoke break on the job or when the dog chooses your lap to sit on. But in their live sets, Yin Waster showcase their musicianship with groovy jams and improvisation, creating a unique experience that takes off with each time you see them.
You have coined this project as “gas station folk”. Where does that name come from and how does it influence the music you want to make?
The name came to me (Griffin) years ago as just a cheeky was to get around genre. I think folk music, regardless of the amount of fuzz pedals, atonal bashing or tripped out vocals on a song, has always been an influence. so the idea of “gas station folk” as a kind of tapestry, janky and maybe even bizarre version of folk music really stuck with me.
Beyond your folk songs, you take the opportunity in live shows to try out some psychedelic jams. Being able to do that takes a lot of trust in each other’s instincts. How have you developed that relationship over the years, and what do you think it has offered you both artistically and personally?
I think our abilities as improvisers and live performers has grown directly with the friendship between Gabe and I. We have only grown closer and more intertwined since we started playing together and that level of comfort and lack of fear to fail or get strange or take a jam into a new place goes away cause we know that we are listening too each other and have each others back. Plus we live together and practice/play shows pretty often so if a jam isn’t our all time favorite we know there’s always going to be another.
Having released several live shows on bandcamp, you have covered a lot of ground showing how expansive this duo can be. Do you have any standout live releases from your catalog? What does preserving these performances mean to you two?
I think my personal favorite is probably the solo acoustic “Live at The Apartment”. It’s putting the FOLK is “Gas Station Folk”. We recorded it at the original “The Apartment” location, which was just Cam Goulder’s actual apartment and it was just so much fun. We did two takes of every song and just had a hoot. Alex J Milne and Mark Capapas who shot it absolutely killed it on the camera work. It was just a labor of friendship and love.
You two recently went on tour with fellow Chicago band, friendly faces, a long weekend Midwest trip under the apartment name. Having toured before, what was it like to tour with friends who haven’t done it before? What was that experience like for you?
It was great! Tour is such a magical time where you’re both insanely busy but also on vacation. So being able to do that with friends and go to antique stores and mill about the midwest for a few days and eat diner food was just the best. Not to put the cart before the horse but we are planning on doing more of those joint tours!
What’s on the horizon for Yin Waster in the near future?
We just mastered an EP that I still have yet to name. I think it should be out in a few months. We also are just wrapping mixing on our next full-length record. We also are working on getting out on the road again later this year. Beyond that we have a bunch of shows in Chicago booked already! I am very excited for the future.
Ava Brennan is a Chicago-based songwriter, who having only released her debut single this past summer, has become a live staple amongst the local DIY art communities. Brennan’s writing effortlessly shifts between conversational movements and articulated dynamic swells, allowing both her vocals and instrumentations to ground the track as her stories commute through the landscape. What Brennan does so well is build up a space of her own, a secret hideout made to be a perfect fit – one where each bit of wall is prime real estate for the most epic personalization and encouraged discovery that life has to offer.
Photos by Adriana Gonzales
This summer you released your debut single “Home (With You)”, a song that brought out much reflection for you as a writer and as a human. Now having some time to sit with it, where does that song live with you? What did it mean for this to be one of the first things people have heard from you?
“Home (with you)” is basically the first song I ever wrote. I wrote it around 2020. I have a complex relationship with it being the first “thing” people have heard from me. I was tentative about releasing it at all. I was having bad health problems when I recorded it in 2023. When I listened to the recording I felt like I could hear my weakness, discomfort, and de-centeredness. I had also written it so long ago, and I felt that the writing was naive or simplistic in a way that embarrassed me. To a level, I still feel these ways, but I wanted to share the song anyways. I think it’s important to do things that embarrass us. Now I see the song as a tender, fawn-legged embryo of a recorded music career to be. Huzzah for the embryo!
The release took on its own meaning. I felt compelled to keep the release off of Spotify because of Daniel Ek’s 680 million dollar investment in AI military drone technology amidst the genocide in Gaza. My dad had just found this crazy photo from right after my sister’s birth which I felt called to use as the cover art. It all came together to form this very simple, meaningful message through the release. We all deserve a home. We all deserve the right to know peace in our homeland. Violence is predicated on an illusion of separation. Belonging is created through loving embrace of one another.
2025 was the first year you began to play with a band behind you. Have you played off of other musicians before? What did that inclusion of this band mean to you as you navigate your abilities as an artist?
January of 2025 I wrote in my notebook “2025: Year of Band.” And so it was! Fiona Palensky has been drumming with me, Meredith Nesbitt has been bassing and celloing, Seth Lauver has been on the marimba, and Ryan Cordero has been doing their multi-instrumentalist magic.
I have played off of other musicians before. I played in a duo with the long-bearded, strato-spell-casting Gandalf of guitar, Victor Sanders. He’s a wee Chicago legend and I love him. Other folks I’ve been playing with are beloved friends Garret Frank, Maeve Masterson, Zofia Majowsky, Victoria Park, and D Jean Baptiste.
It feels like I’m dreaming when I hear other people extending my songs through their instrumentation and creativity. It’s like a mandala is growing around a small weaving I’ve made. It affirms my inner world, and it frees the project to live the life of a shared being. I’m definitely still in the learning curve of band-leading. I feel so lucky to play with such talented, beautiful people.
Photo by Rachel Steele
You recently wrote an article for The Pub about the recent boycott of 100+ Chicago artists removing their music from Spotify. What do you think makes this movement so crucial for our community, as well as, what factors of the Chicago scene do you believe led to such a massive boycott?
It is imperative to fight fascism with our art. Art exists to free us. When the money syphoned off of our music is used to subjugate others, we need to resist. Also… we need to get paid real dollars not pennies!!
Chicago is primed to be a catalyst in the Spotify boycott because we have a close-knit, community oriented, politically aware, DIY forward scene. Organizing ties in art making translate very well to political organizing networks. The Chicago Off Spotify article features conversations with Hemlock, Minor Moon, Chaepter, and D Jean-Baptiste. It is print-only and can be found at sweet locations all over the city (for more info go to https://thepubchicago.com/newsletter/).
Photo by Derrick Alexander
You are also heavily involved in the dance world, helping run swing night at Judson and Moore. What is your relationship with dance, and how can people who may be nervous to try it out get involved?
Dance is the most joyous thing in my life. It is a cathartic, creative, silly, sexy, dramatic, dynamic hoot and a holler. It is so similar to music, but much more somatically engaged on a gross-body level. It’s the best thing for my mental health. I love swing dance, contra dance, contact improv, blues dance, African-Haitian dance, two step, salsa— basically any kind of dance!
I have been working with a friend and choreographer, Jayde Kief, who started a workshop called Movementum. We collaborated on a set at The Great Gathering festival this summer. We took each of my songs and created a group movement practice out of them. The audience could participate in each song and experience its meaning through intentional, improvisational, interpersonal embodiment. It was truly a trip.
Anyone that is nervous to try it out should DM or email me and we’ll go to something together! It is my secret mission to bring more movement into the Chicago music scene… slowly but surely we will get everyone addicted to dance.
What’s next for you and your crew? Any new music in your future? I am very stoked to share that I am working on an album and planning a midwest/east coast tour this summer. My next show is this Thursday at Ramova Loft hosted by Ugly Hug x The Apartment x Soinso zine. For info on other upcoming shows you can visit avabrennanmusic.com !
Last November, I called Faith Maddox of Virga to talk about their new EP The Perfect Freedom of Single Necessity. We spoke on Black Friday. “I can’t even go online right now because every ad feels like I’m being spiritually assaulted,” they lamented. Maddox, navigating the wake of a breakup and subsequent band restructuring, has been forced to reexamine their relationship to dependence, need, and desire. The transformation forced them to release their grasp on the scaffolding of the relationship they outgrew. This release became a new framework, one in which they could recognize the pitfalls of preoccupation – whether it be with a person, a substance, or retail.
The title of the record borrows a line from Annie Dillard’s essay “Living Like Weasels,” a foundational text for Maddox during the creation of these songs. Laudably, Dillard’s weasel has no preoccupations. It does not concern itself with what it wants to buy, what bar it wants to visit, or who it wants to fuck. Instead, it remains focused only on the aspects of life that keep it alive, and all else falls by the wayside. “The weasel lives in necessity and we live in choice,” writes Dillard. “A weasel lives as he’s meant to, yielding at every moment to the perfect freedom of single necessity,” she concludes. Like the titular weasel, who acts according to no being’s prerogatives other than its own, Maddox strives for clarity of purpose. The Perfect Freedom of Single Necessity embraces a kind of spiritual abstinence, and renounces that which does not sustain an attuned life. “All desires belie a spiritual deficit,” Maddox stated. “If you don’t stop and think about why you’re chasing what you’re chasing, you might not be actually pursuing what you truly want.”
Virga’s dedication to intentionality is audibly evident, too. Each track feels focused and determined, driven by to-the-point guitar riffs, crisp drum patterns, and full-throttle bass lines supplied by Maddox, Billy Orr, and Deegan Poores, respectively. Virga’s sound is clear-cut and polished off like a sun-bleached bone left long ago by some scavenger. Most distinct are Maddox’s up-close and deliberate vocals, sustaining notes in ways that make air feel like a non-renewable resource. It’s as if they’ve entered their lean season, not in the sense they don’t have enough to work with – rather, they’ve gotten rid of what they don’t absolutely need.
The band opens with unfettered energy on “Half Lie,” the EP’s first track that can only be described as a pre-breakup song. Poores and Orr push the rhythmic progression with an uneasy, twitchy momentum. “Isn’t it nice / to be desired?” the subject bays at the speaker, full of resentment. Maddox snarls this line with such bitterness that it’s hard to read the scene as anything other than a passive aggressive exchange that will precipitate a full blown fight. The song swims in the dullness and disquietude of a decaying relationship, of needs left unmet. Maddox belligerently pokes at the tension by unleashing a guitar solo shaped by harsh, unyielding intonation.
During our call, Maddox mentioned they picked up a cigarette habit on the road. “I allow myself one or two a week,” they said. “It feels powerful to have access to something, but only allow myself to have what I actually need.” It’s a self-disciplined tightrope walk of the line between desire and addiction, between need and want. I hear them waver: “I have asthma, I sing, I should not be smoking…I give a lot of them away,” they add.
Maybe I can hear this new habit in “Night Scene with Coyote.” Maddox opens the second and most audacious track with dusky, alluring delivery: “Do you hear it calling from deep inside? / Hollow, beneath the sternum, / open wide.” With more breath than voice, they conjure the familiar heartburn of fixation, and the temptation of answering that call, even if against your better judgement. They let the impulse carry them forward, like headlights feed your vision just a little at a time on a night drive down a deserted road.
Over a sludgy dirge, they warn, “It’s bottomless, that want / It’s bottomless, the urge,” sustaining the last word until they’ve pushed all the air out of their lungs and their voice creaks and expires.
It mirrors the emptying of the self that occurs in pursuit of something we’re convinced we can’t live without. Like shoulder angels dueling for influence, Maddox and Poores trade guitar and bass lines that propel the track into its climax, a realization. First, it is murmured: “I can’t get enough / of what I don’t need.” It’s a concise yet devastating maxim that illuminates the futility of pursuit. Things that aren’t necessary to your very being, to your soul’s existence, can never fully sate you, and will always leave you in the lurch of needing the next fix.
The climactic line comes from The Dry Season, a memoir by Melissa Febos that Maddox credits with completely changing their understanding of relationships. The memoir details Febos’s year of romantic abstinence and the self-possession she was ultimately able to reclaim as a result. “Celibacy as a method to understand desire is not an intuitive approach,” Maddox points out, but it is a revelatory one. How much of yourself will you empty in trying to fill a bottomless vessel? In this scene, we are the animal, living not in necessity, as the weasel, but in choice, as the proverbial coyote: emaciated, run ragged, risking life and limb to attain and devour our prey. There are other options available that might sustain us, but we insist on the roadrunner, the object of our obsession. We are beholden to a never-ending chase toward the mirage of satisfaction. Desire is a state of destitution.
Maddox repeats the line, this time letting it burst from their mouth. Their voice catches, and they are half pleading, half barking, reckless, frenzied. It’s the kind of ferality that surfaces when we reject the better angels of our nature and give over to the least honorable aspects of ourselves. “Leaning into the parts of myself that felt perverse or undesirable allowed me to make more honest and interesting art,” said Maddox. What is normally hidden, mired in shame, is allowed to break free, and the force is a powerful one.
Two summers ago, the band took a trip to Clark County, Kansas to visit a prairie preserve near the Oklahoma border. Maddox saw a patch of sorghum set against a murky pre-storm sky and snapped a photo. As the shutter clicked, a gust of wind blew them back onto unstable ground, and they lost their balance. They fell back into a ditch, and upon landing, heard a sickening crack as their ankle bent the wrong way. Being carried back to the car, they entirely lost their sense of sight and sound and had a seizure – a symptom of a lifelong neurological condition triggered by physical stress. “I kind of thought I had died. Not being able to hear or see was terrifying,” they told me. In this state of sensory deprivation, full of adrenaline, they became aware of an extrasensory presence, a kind of prairie spirit that stayed with them in their vulnerable state. When they came to, they saw a massive thunderhead coming over the horizon and smelled rain in the air. Maddox wrote “The Ditch” after this harrowing experience.
The whole scene is cinematic and transcendental. I can’t help but think of Christina’s World, the Andrew Wyeth painting of a woman dragging herself up a wheat covered hill without the use of her legs. Anna Christina Olson, the woman depicted in the painting, likely also suffered from a neurological condition that kept her from walking. It is a picture of disabled life both at the mercy of, and, in intimate communion with its natural environment. When we are cut off from our sensuous life, our desires are dwarfed, easily bowled over by a gale.
“Nothing can save you, / nothing cared,” they holler with a Gordonesque bellow, and begin to scratch at their guitar. Though it might sound nihilistic at first, “nothing” here is working as a subject, as in only in a state of nothingness can you be saved. If desires are indeed a symptom of a spiritual deficit, then deprivation must incite a spiritual influx. To detect and connect with a higher power, you must hold onto nothing, and allow the boundary between you and the vapor in the air before a storm to dissolve. When you are nothing once more, the land will take you back, not because it’s vindictive, not even because it wants to. It will swallow you whole because, like the weasel, that is its unthinking job in this world. There is salvation in the uncaring nature of the land. Reflecting on the event, Maddox said, “Some part of me did die that day, in a way that I think was positive.”
When we talked about the inspiration for the closing track, “Via Negativa,” Maddox said they wrote it while Poores was setting up a new pedal steel guitar, which lends the song a sweet reflectiveness that isn’t heard elsewhere on the EP. “I was feeling a lot that day,” they said. “Will I have both the creative success I feel is the primary purpose in my life – and – can I have love? You’re always sacrificing one for another especially if you’re in a relationship with a man,” they attested. They were haunted by the painful yet liberating nature of relinquishing the ideal of partnership.
They described their newfound solitude to me as being able to fully exhale for the first time. I don’t think I entirely understood what they meant until I was driving west out of Chicago. As I passed train yards and suburbs, the landscape flattened out, and I felt a sweet and familiar expansiveness return to me. Gazing out on flocks of geese balanced on frozen ponds, I was overcome with a sense of singularity that cannot exist when there is always someone right next to you. There was nothing before me except more road. It was a great field of possibility, and no matter how far I advanced, I found myself at the center of this field. Only in the middle of nowhere can you begin to understand your place in the world. This is via negativa, “the negative way,” a philosophical idea that you can define life, the Self, or God by what it is not.
“There’s nowhere to hide / when you’re out on the ice,” Maddox howls with lungfuls of air, with miles to go. With no distractions, no preoccupations, there is suddenly nothing left standing between you and your one, true, single necessity in this life. There is no destination except here and now, and no excuse not to be there. Here you stand in the wide open, in full awareness, with nothing. Well, not nothing. There’s you, the you that’s left when everything else is stripped away. “What would love feel like without an object at the center of it?” Maddox asks me.
I imagine it’s terrifying, being the only speck on the tundra, the prairie. Once you reach where you thought the oasis lay, only to realize you’re surrounded by thin air, fooled by an iceblink, it is devastating. But on the other hand, you can stop running.
You can listen to The Perfect Freedom of Single Necessity out everywhere January 30th. You can listen to the rest of Virga’s catalog now.
On Tuesday, January 20th, the ugly hug will host our next showcase at Schubas Tavern in Chicago. The lineup of Friendly Faces, Girly Pants and Liska will play in part of Schubas local High Five music series. Tickets are $5 with doors opening at 7:30pm and show at 8:00pm.
We recently got to interview each of our featured artists in preparation for the show.
Friendly Faces have always brought words to motion, recentering what matters most in the world with such simple fixations, open hearts and really good tunes. Started by Cam Goulder and Griffin Mang, but now showcasing friends Jakob Morris, Simona Boson, CJ Wells and Nick Von Oldenburg. What stands out at any Friendly Faces show are the harmonies between Cam and Simona, playing to their endearing lyricism and the definitive characteristic of storytelling that brings a lasting charm to each track. Songs like “Lonely Trucker” and “Smokin’ Doobies” offer subtle and sweet affairs to these unruffled, picturesque daydreams of being young, dumb and sensitive.
Friendly Faces started in 2021 as just a three-piece, but has since become a much larger bawith the inclusion of Simona, CJ and now Nick. Where have you seen the project grow from the early days of “Why Do I Care” to the full band performances that folks will catch at Schubas?
I think we’ve grown a lot with new songs and covers. The music has become fuller especially with the drums. It totally changes the sound and pace in way that I really like.
You guys recently embarked on a tour for The Apartment, your DIY traveling venue, with both Friendly Faces and Yin Waster. Having been your first time playing out of Illinois, what was that experience like? Did you find other DIY scenes in other states similar to Chicago?
We’ve played in other states before but not on a tour. This was our first time doing a weekender, going to Fort Wayne, Columbus and finishing the tour up in Chicago. It was fun to be able to take our music to different audiences and have crowds that I’ve never seen before. It’s very different than Chicago, and makes me really love Chicago. There’s always so much going on here.
I can’t help but to connect songs like “Dear Satan” and “Your Total is 666” to the devil. Are you at all worried that your songs will have a negative influence on the youth and their fragile minds?
I wrote Dear Satan with Griffin and it’s inspired by a song from the 1950s, “Satan is Real” by the Louvin Brothers. Dear Satan is a love song, just like the one by the Louvin Brothers. People have been singing about Satan for years. I don’t think it should corrupt the youth any more now than it did then.
What’s next for the faces? More songs in the works?
Yes! We are recording more songs right now, some that will be played at the 1/20 show at Schubas! Look out for new releases, including a music video.
Girly Pants, fronted by songwriter Sabreen Alfadel, is a project that has become interchangeable with both her growth as a musician and as an individual. Girly Pants as a band, consisting of friends Luigi De Col on drums, Drew Emerson on bass and newest member David Ho on guitar, who as a unit craft steady tracks amongst swooning guitar lines and invigorating rhythms. But at its core, Alfadel’s writing becomes a point of reflection, wielding both strength and tenderness with each melody and quip she performs.
Girly Pants recently embarked on your first tour with fellow Chicago band Rain Garden. How was that experience for you? Did it make you look at your work as a band in a different way after that time?
It was such a special experience, and we learned a lot about what it means to test new songs out on the road. There’s one unreleased song that was taking us forever to piece together, and after playing it for the first few shows of the tour, we accepted that it just wasn’t fully there yet and decided to cut it from the setlist. Now that we’ve stepped away from it for some time and revisited it with a new perspective and new lead guitarist, there’s a clear newfound confidence in how we play it live, and it feels good to see how far that song has come since tour.
There’s another unreleased song we played on tour that we thought we really liked, but later realized doesn’t fit the somewhat new direction we’re going for. Touring really made us reevaluate the sound that we have, and we feel excited to step things up and be extra intentional with how a song fits a setlist or future release.
You recently introduced a new lead guitar player to your lineup. What was that audition process like for and what are you excited about with the new contributions?
David Ho! We love David! We’ve grown so close in such a short period of time, and we’re so thankful for his talent, enthusiasm, and creativity. When we first auditioned David, he expressed that he’s an alt-rock boy at heart who nowadays is delving more into r&b, soul, and jazz-adjacent stuff to level up his musicianship. It’s definitely very apparent in his playing and guitar tone, which gets me so excited. The new songs we’re working on together feel a lot more melodic/dreamy with a rock undertone, versus having distortion at the forefront. It’s a natural progression to my songwriting, and his contributions fit like a glove.
We auditioned four guitarists and asked them to learn two songs from Nurture and contribute ideas to an unreleased song to get a sense of their style. David’s ideas for the new song were what sealed the deal, and as we were really getting to know each other, this text from him was just the cherry on top:
This past October, you hosted what may be your final Halloween/birthday show. How did that tradition begin? What have you taken away from planning and performing a much anticipated show every year?
I never really planned for this to be a yearly thing, I just remember thinking playing a Weezer set for my October birthday would be a blast and a half. And it was! So Coldplay, Pixies, and then Nirvana followed…but every year it became more stressful to organize. I never want music to feel like an obligation, and if I have to force myself to figure out what other band to cover, then maybe it’s not meant to be. I really love learning and covering songs, and it’s cool getting an in-depth insight into a band’s tunings and chord progressions. There’s nothing like playing a setlist of bangers for a crowd that knows all the songs!
Girly Pants is a heavy frequenter of local Chicago bills, being a highly anticipated act for both DIY and venue spaces. I know that you have experienced some show burnout the past year. Have you reevaluated the way you embrace performing over that time? Have you been able to further express how burnout feels to you and ways to help ease that tension?
We’re definitely becoming more selective with the shows we play. I think playing a bunch of shows last year was a great way to get our name out, but now I want to focus my efforts on new music. It’s been fun tightening up the setlist and spending practices working on new music instead of playing through the same setlist. Having time to just mess around on my guitar on my own time is so important to me, and playing shows a little less frequently gives me more time to do that.
What’s on the horizon for the Girly Pants crew? New music perhaps?
We are actively working on new music for an album! All show funds we play from now on are going into the recording bank, and I couldn’t be more excited. We’re embracing a different sound and I’m confident it will be a strong follow-up to Nurture.
Liska is the stage alias of Chicago-based pop artist Annelise Steele, blending the glitter, glam and sweat with both a rambunctious heart and a catchy melody. This past summer found Liska sharing her latest EP, Acting Above Your Station, the title being a phrase relating to someone acting pretentious, but to her can also be used as a deliberate means to make things happen. Since its release into the world, receiving attention for the pop-centered hit “I Guess That’s What I Get”, Liska has seen changes happen in a tangible sense. Releasing new singles, playing many shows and opening her own local recording space called Hazy Star, Liska has not only made a name for herself in Chicago and beyond, but continues to look ahead into a more engaging and glittery community.
You recently released a one-off single called “I’ll Tell You When to Laugh” that your dad helped you produce, mix and master. What did that experience mean to you?
This song was a way of reminding myself I still got it, for lack of better words. I recorded the song on vacation in Florida on a USB mic I had shipped there and wasn’t recording with the intention to release anything. The experience reminded me how much I love to work and write alone, and how good of a producer my dad actually is (lol). I’m lucky to have such a talented and cool dad.
Speaking of producing, you recently opened your own recording studio, Hazy Star, with fellow Chicago producer, Ricardo Tolbert. Having worked on a session together back in 2020, what sparked you two to create your own space? What are you learning about your own approach to recording and producing from this experience? What do you want to see this space become?
I spent a lot of time in the studio around the time we met and was beginning to miss writing and recording regularly throughout the week, having a place to go and create and just forget about my more mundane life worries. When I approached him with the idea of getting our own space he seemed to be in a similar mindset so it just kind of worked out.
I’m learning I have a lot of ideas and opinions and being a producer isn’t necessarily about inserting them; I now aim to guide artists through their own sea of thoughts, ideas and even insecurities. I want the space to be a safe haven for grounded creative exploration. I took an incredibly cathartic meditation-focused healing class this past spring (s/o Penny Gac of Casa Penny!) that inspired me to bring the same grounded practices to the space – I hope to provide more guided vocal meditations to artists who are interested to help navigate them through the recording process.
This past spring saw you release your latest EP Acting Above Your Station, which found you writing with more confidence in order to manifest new things to come. How does it feel to have that EP out for some time now, and have you seen these manifestations come through both in your personal and creative life?
In all seriousness “Le Creuset” manifested scary accurate for me in the best way, so that’s fun. I’m finally embodying that air of confidence I was projecting while writing and recording those songs. It all seems so long ago – I feel like an incredibly different person. I don’t think this EP is ready to completely go away; like it’s waiting for the right ears, the right time, the right music distribution platform.
This upcoming show at Schubas will be unique for you, as you said you will be performing solo and mixing on stage. How does the Liska stage presence come through with this setup compared to the full band experience? What do you feel when performing alone?
I lied a little bit (will have keys and guitar) but I will, in fact, be holding it down on the sampler. In all honesty, I’m always extremely nervous trying something new on stage but the feeling of having done it afterwards is worth the worry. I think I end up giving more when I have less around me on stage – like I’m subconsciously trying to compensate for the lack of full band. Chicago realllyyyyyy loves a live band so it can be a little nerve wracking.
I know you will be taking some time off from performing in the weeks ahead. What’s in the works at Liska HQ going forward?
Mostly boring things, some fun. There’s one more song I’m hoping to put out with a video that will be shot this spring. Hopefully more photoshoots – I love a photoshoot. I’d like to put a lot of focus on Hazy Star and get my reps in as a producer. Oh and um… I would love to start playing live in other cities. Tour?
Cashier put out a song. Does it rip? I don’t know. Is the sky blue?
Today, the Lafayette-based four piece announced forthcoming EP, The Weight, set to come out March 13th via Julia’s War, offering a preview through new single, “Like I Do”. While it is only the sixth song available on their discography, Cashier’s minimal amount of recorded music thus far has certainly not hindered their stretching reputation. They have a sound capable of hijacking even the most disintegrated, brain-rotted attention spans; delivering profound live sets and injecting that raw, divinely DIY essence into their recorded music. “Like I Do” taps traditional rock music in the best way possible. It’s hearty, messy, dynamic. Kylie Gaspard’s vocals are paramount and unrelenting when present; and when they aren’t, the space is swiftly filled with sovereign shredding.
About the song, Gaspard explains, “This one is more of a piece of generic rock. We kind of wanted to make our own version of that sound. The lyrics are very simple, just about two people figuring each other out, what feels right when you’re unsure of a scenario, and navigating another person’s energy.”
You can pre-order The Weight and listen to “Like I Do” below.
Written by Shea Roney | Photo Courtesy of The Spatulas
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 Bloomington-based songwriter, Miranda Soileau-Pratt, of the band The Spatulas.
Back in the Spring of 2024, The Spatulas released their debut full-length album, Beehive Mind, a collection of songs that feel like a bracing artifact, formative at the heart of punk-rock antiquity but sobering in the guts of Miranda’s poetic perspectives. Amongst loose structures, flicked guitars and percussive movers, The Spatulas don’t dwell on impact, but rather carry stories of empathy, passion, imperfection and grief with such care in the band’s unique scheme of simpleness. Along with bandmates Jon Grothman (bass), Lila Jarzombek (guitar) and Kyle Raquipiso (drums), these tracks sway with both color and grit as the Spatulas play off of what’s around them. And it’s in the obvious, or otherwise, overlooked, where Miranda’s words don’t drag their feet when exploring the familiar, but rather ask what it means for these instances to become familiar to us in the first place.
About the playlist, Miranda shared;
“It’s been quite the journey from Oregon, to Cambridge Mass, to Bloomington but I’m so happy to live in the Midwest now! Couldn’t have made it without my old ’96. I’ve been listening to most of these songs for many years. All are inspiration for the Spatulas’ sound, in particular for the forthcoming album “A Blue Dot” (Post Present Medium). Since beginning the band with my husband, Elijah, in 2020, we have been inspired by music that lends itself to the musical amateur. Simple song structures and minimal chord changes allow people to play without much concern for theory, (Television Personalities, The Clean, JJ Ulius). An open-mindedness towards the timbre of one’s instrument gives a freedom to express without much concern for technical skill. Many singers presented on this playlist showcase that same lack of inhibition, (Dead Moon, Armand Schaubroeck, WWH, Jim Shepherd). I like lyrical gravity, songs that tell a humanistic story, promote compassion and self-actualization, (Thunderclap Newman, Barbara Dane, Jacob Milstein). I also value complex arrangements, and can go there sometimes with my own lyrics, but tend towards simplicity. More than anything else, this playlist shows my appreciation for mainly classic punk and rock & roll from around the world and captures my headspace during a time of transition.”
You can listen to The Spatulas’ catalog now, as well as Miranda’s latest release, Around and About You, a collab with Nowhere Flower (Lila Jarzombek). Miranda was also a member of the Oregon-based band, The Blimps.
Written by Joy Elizabeth | Photo by Vanessa Valadez
Chicago-based group Dendrons’ third full-length offering, Indiana, couldn’t be more of a product of its origins. The title track begins the album, calling listeners to “dissolve yourself,” a refrain cushioned between droning guitars and optimistic lead melodies. There is notable, intentional restraint in the composition, a precipice never quite summited. It makes the LP feel like a dream, somewhere between the grounded real world and the heady, psychedelic swoon of something otherworldly.
While lead singles “Tuck Me Under,” “Monsteras,” and “B4” invite the audience into this abstract sonic landscape, it is the shorter tracks that really complete the picture. “Liminal” and “Opening Play (Make Haste)” (all of 43 second and under 2 minutes, respectively), bridge the gap between heavier, fuzzier compositions and cleanse the palate for the main event.
I caught up with Jarvie to dive into the themes of Indiana, its “fractured” development, and how the group metamorphosizes restlessness into a punch.
Dendrons has been described as a collaboration of two childhood friends who reconnected later in life. With tracks like “B4” exploring the haunting nature of the past (memories stored in location), would you say that Indiana is an ode to home?
Dane Jarvie: I would say Indiana represents a lot of things to me personally. It is my origin in the sense that my grandparents on my mothers side came from there. For me it exists, partially, as a liminal space. A perpetual ground between loss and reinvention. A cosmic purgatory. A place that I find myself in throughout most of my life. I think there is a strange beauty to it that I find intoxicating. A lot of Indiana feels so familiar to me even though I had never grown up there.
On a physical level, it is probably one of the states that I have driven through more than any other. It is omnipresent.
Lead single “Tuck Me Under” nearly hits the 6 minute mark, cascading between lulls and frenetic breaks. What was the process like composing this?
DJ: The majority of songs on this album were written in fractions here, fractions there—piecemeal. Ableton demos that were pitched by members of the band were re-imagined, re-arranged and built back up as a unit—sometimes bearing little resemblance to the original tune. Then the songs would evolve again when we went to the studio. Everything was always in flux until literally the last moment.
“Tuck Me Under” was constructed in a similar fashion. It started as a short demo of some acoustic improvisations and electronic embellishments, and it was run through the grinder, going through many different shapes and shades.
The sprawling, acoustic, ethereal end section was pitched by Tony, our engineer and co-producer, as a concept, and I remember during the pre-production stage, we stayed up in a windowless basement till 4 or 5 am, hammering out chords on a nylon string guitar and singing melodies. That part was written in Normal, Illinois. The original demo for the end section had us putting violin bows over guitars, and we spent a long time creating hypnotic feedback.
We were so sleep deprived when we recorded these ideas that when we listened back to what we wrote, it felt like it came from someone else entirely. I think this all contributes to the overall feel. As far as how the vocals went for this album, melodies came first, and the lyrics were arranged at the very end of the writing process.
There is a restless energy that blankets the album, an eagerness to break through monotony felt particularly in “Monsteras.” Where does this come from, and have you found that channeling these thoughts into your work helps release them?
DJ: I think this album was created in a state of uncertainty. I think a lot of us were yearning for a reinvention creatively, but there was not a specific road map for how to get there. It was all new territory for us. There is an inherent tension with the tunes. There are a lot of heavy creative forces at play in these songs—Every member of this project has a different vision for how something could or should sound. A lot of compromise had to be made in order to make things fit. Sometimes the clashing ideas were left in the music and made as a creative choice, as a statement. I think those moments are important to represent in an honest way.
You’re credited as co-producers on the album with Tony Brant. Do you feel like having your hands on production keeps you in the driver’s seat of each project?
DJ: I think we all consider production, and the creative choices associated with tone and sonic palate, to be a large part of the artistry for us—a large part for the recipe that makes this band what it is. Taking ownership of this is emboldening.
Tony played a huge part in it too, keeping things moving and adding a coherence to things.He added a certain technical prowess that we really appreciate. Everything is mostly collaborative, though. We play specific instruments on the stage, but as far as writing goes, we are multi-instrumentalists in every sense. Sometimes I would write parts for another member, or they would write parts for me, or maybe entire sections with all instruments of one section were structured from one person’s Ableton demo beforehand. It didn’t matter who wrote what part. We tried to put egos aside as best we could. The most important thing was did the part sound good coming out of the speakers? It didn’t matter through what person (or avenue) it was achieved. This was the prevailing attitude while writing the record.
You’ve noted the Chicago DIY scene as pivotal in your career. How has it supported you and how does it fit into your story now?
DJ: Chicago is where the band was started and it is always gonna be the home base for most of us. We are a product of the environment we grew up in. I do, however, think a big part of our sound is also the product of us finding ourselves on the road, touring, and getting outside of our comfort zones—interacting with communities all across North America. We are very much a band that is informed by our experiences traveling, and I have always appreciated that aspect. I want to honor that.
You can listen to Indiana out everywhere now via Candlepin Records.
“I’m self obsessed / I think real hard and I do my best, to do my part,” Dexter Webb sings on the aforementioned “I’m Self Obsessed”, the second track off of his latest album It’s All For Me self-released this past September. You can often find Webb playing guitar in the touring band of Indigo De Souza or playing in various live musical configurations around North Carolina. But back in 2024, Webb shared So I Lost My Shot!, a debut album of lost sounds and ideas that took a long time to feel complete after its initial release. It’s All For Me had to be released cut and dry for both its own and Webb’s sake to move on to whatever’s next.
Throughout Webb’s figurative stylings, accumulating tinkerings with instinctive sonic fulfillment, It’s All For Me sounds like striking gold in the junk drawer; the lost forgotten treasures of yesteryear that now take on a new meaning. Action figures who peaked in high school, AAA batteries with a bit of juice left, old baseball cards where the players all seem to wink at you with profitable intents; each track runs fast and with harsh familiarity as Webb writes with such classic strains of pop hooks and instrumental progressions, yet still maintains to be fully and remarkably individual. “But that ain’t me / at least for now I still wanna be right off of the track / where I can’t hear the train and all of my friends are just doing their thing”, he continues on “I’m Self Obsessed”, lighthearted amongst the chimes of bells and glitching inputs. It’s All For Me does feel like it was written for an audience of one, and to its credit, that’s what makes it so special. It’s both confrontational and comforting, gripping tightly to the dichotomy between the act of making art and sharing art, as Webb continues to define pleasure, space, and voice in what he does.
We recently got to ask Webb some questions about the album, the struggles of working solo and his ever-shifting writing process.
It’s All For Me is your latest album to be shared with the world. How does it feel to have it out?
Feels positive to be out from under one thing and crawled up under another. It’s generally good for me to have less to consider, and I haven’t thought about those recordings much since that day I put it up. The process of making it felt important, but not sure how I feel or what it means otherwise.
You have participated in several other NC bands over the years, either offering guitar work or helping with recording services. When did you want to start releasing your own stuff? What did your time working with other artists bring to your own work, and what does it mean to have something entirely your own?
I always wanted to, but it can be psychologically complicated to be alone in that process. With friends, I can at least take comfort in the simple truth that playing music with people I love is GOOD. That’s more than enough a reason to do it. For whatever reason I have some elusive, ghostly shame around my own public creative existence.
Photo by Charlie Boss
Like you said, having these songs to sit on and to consider and to put out, does that feel like a chore or a task to complete for you? What makes you put out your own work despite the ghostly shame?
No, never a chore. I don’t want to force it. Feels like I can’t afford to let the good thing go sour. There’s always fun to be found in it, it’s just a matter of if I can let myself go there.
Your approach to releasing music on bandcamp is fairly loose, being comfortable making changes and trying new things. Did the making and releasing of It’s All For Me differ in the way you released So I Lost My Shot?
Two very different experiences. So I Lost My Shot! was a yearlong roll out of whatever I was finding on old tapes and my couple broken computers. I found myself looking around for something when I felt down and didn’t know why. Usually took one or two manic flurries for another batch of songs to get thrown up. I’d take it down when it felt weird, and every once in a while, throw it back up with another half hour or something. I’m far enough away from it now. It’s All for Me came from my first time not having a home recording setup and sitting around writing songs was my only option. As soon as I could plug shit in, I recorded them as fast as I could and put it up.
Do you think that initial reaction to write first and then quickly record and share all at once affected how this album came out in the end? Whether that be creatively speaking or the way you were able to put it out and let it be?
It did. I could’ve easily strangled it into something else, if I didn’t learn my lesson the first hundred times. More time with something usually allows more of those self-destructive thoughts to show face. Music I’ve made that I “loved” the most and spent the most time with had to be destroyed. Better for me not to get too attached, because I can and will. I have more creative self-trust now that I will just write more and keep doing what works. The shame doesn’t have much good to say, it’s just that part of the brain that if you listen too close it can push you to complete nonexistence, probably best to do the opposite of whatever it says
There seem to be instances of grappling with perception of self and the way you are perceived by others. Where were you writing from for this album? Were there any themes you found yourself writing to?
Mostly writing about confusion, my death, and trying to make myself laugh.
You also work a lot with video and animations. What is your relationship to visuals? Does it influence the way you approach making music at all?
Not so much anymore. I had fun while I was doing it. I think it came from being on tour all the time and editing video was something I could do in the van. I’ll probably play with clay again, but it takes a warm space for my hands, and I find myself currently bouncing from cold to colder.
You can observe a discernible tightening within Trembler’s music over the years. Their 2019 debut was a biting display of heaviness and scorching lyricism, one that bends from post-hardcore and contemporary shoegaze to early 2000’s screamo and ambitious prog rock-esque compositions. It is potent and abrasive and beautiful and reckless and heartbreaking, and it might be my favorite record of the last decade. And yet, as they move further from the loud discordance of Trembler, the intensity they managed to cultivate in that record has only heightened. Before I wrote this, I spent about a week attempting to pin point what it is about Trembler that I find myself so incredibly drawn to. A way to articulate the feelings elicited by everything they have done; whether it be coarse contributions on a split EP with Austin-based screamo band Palefade, or the somber, wispy new single they released today. I realized what generally draws me to abrasive music is not some masochistic urge to cauterize my ear drums, but a craving for the vulnerability found in less polished art. What makes Trembler so moving is less about volume or distortion or any one sonic technicality than it is the inimitable fragility that binds their music. It is equally present in their corrosive tracks as it is in their softer work, layering a complexity to Trembler that continues to expand with each new release. Today, they shared “Wilt”; the single further proving Trembler’s ability to yield raw and poignant music regardless of what route they take.
“Wilt” is a first taste of Trembler’s forthcoming EP, Total Sorry, set to come out January 29th via Rite Field Records. The line “we wilt away” hypnotically surfaces fourteen times throughout the track, layered between a lyrical unfolding of loss, remorse and doubt. “Wilt” is subdued and unresolved; yet like most of what Trembler carves out, it is rich in its dimension, guided by authenticity rather than logic or precision. Cushioned by pale guitars that lie somewhere neutral on the spectrum of bleak to cheerful, the track’s moments of lyrical devastation are sweetened with threads of optimism and pivotal acceptance. In spite of its name, “Wilt” grows stronger with each listen, rendering a familiar story of closure you have to forge for yourself, and the consolation that comes when you do.
About the song, Luke Gonzales shares, “‘Wilt’ deals with what it sounds like–watching something beautiful in my life die. Losing my closest friends, having my view of something that consumed so much of my life splinter and leave, and wondering whether it was hollow all along. Generally, a good representation of the central feeling I was trying to capture on this EP. It’s sad, but in my opinion, sober in its acceptance that how things were over now, in an attempt to move on.”
the ugly hug 