The “flow state”, only reached when a racecar driver hits 180+ mph, feels like a momentary lapse in time, where all movement becomes one and control over the situation begins to feel effortless. Today, the ugly hug is premiering Violet Speedway, the debut record from Sacramento artist, Levi Minson, which is set to be released this Friday via Anything Bagel. Although not reaching the speed at which the engines rev and the heart is left in synchronous palpitations, Violet Speedway is a flash of grace, as Minson smoothly transitions in and out of stories of love, loss, fear and most of all, hope.
Oftentimes minimal, Violet Speedway confronts the open spaces with soft, yet hearty soundscapes. Recorded fully in a bedroom on a tascam four-track, these deceptively sparse, lo-fi songs live in this subtle density of Minson’s instrumental expressions of looping guitars, light synths and heavy drums that spackle in the cracks. Songs like ‘The Shadow’ and ‘I Can’t Say It At All’ play with persistence, as Minson’s somber melodies sit on top of the chunking of heavy guitars – attuned to that of the early catalog of Elliott Smith as he transitioned from the rock roots of Heatmiser. ‘The Gleam Is All I See’ is a rambunctious indie rock stinger that plays passenger to the melancholic feel of the lo-fi recordings at hand, yet the distorted undertones are still muddily layered and excitingly harsh at its core. The harmonies on ‘Colin Is’, featuring Taylor Vick, build and flow with such tender vigor that any hints of pain begin to blend with bits of satisfactory release.
This type of writing – reminiscing on momentary feelings and the duality at which they are experienced and then later remembered – so creatively opens up little worlds within each one of Minson’s songs. As the third generation of a dust bowl family, Minson’s writing articulates a rural life; the stories of time, place and being that stick out while fine details help hammer them down with sincerity and charm. ‘Anyone can do it/Sidekick’ begins with one of the most subtle moments on the record, letting each word hang in the air as staggered guitar strums reverb around them in a bare mini two-part epic. “My old man was a psychic / When he said I won’t need him / Cuz I’m your sidekick”, he sings with a stirring string of harmonies. ‘Did You Try’ plays through a stumble, falling into minor intonations as the guitar picks along, fixated on its pacing as it tries to grasp on to anything other then solitude. ‘I’ll go, you stay here’ marks Minson’s presence as he toys with distance. With the beautiful subtlety of synthetic strings – a restrained form of cinematic trust within the track – the song turns into a doomed romance as Violet Speedway reaches its most inflicting emotional height.
Minson sings of shortcomings as if he is one step ahead, reflecting while simultaneously looking at the path forward. “Do they look both ways yet? / I know all about regret”, he utters out, with no hesitancy, bringing the album to a close with the song, ‘Memory’. It’s not really a love song, and yet, it’s not really about heartbreak either, but a sincere glimpse at Minson’s heart and mind beginning to flow together.
Listen to Violet Speedway early below.
You can now pre-order a limited screen-printed tape of Violet Speedway from Anything Bagel at their bandcamp. Make sure to check out the rest of their excellent catalog!
Running through the Catskills, cultivating in the heart of Maine and now resting in New Paltz, New York, the sonic tinkerings and lethargic dreamscapes of The Spookfish have been sprouting across the Eastern United States for some time now. Brought to life by Dan Goldberg, The Spookfish is a cherished project, one that revels in the heart of natural beauty and the experience of an ethereal being – each collection of work representing its own journey inside a textured sonic world. Last week, The Spookfish released “To The Flame”, a new tape via We Be Friends Records and the encompassing soundtrack for the new Rebel Jester Studios platform video game, To The Flame.
Within the dark depths of a weepy cavern, To The Flame follows the journey of a moth, whose main objective is to reach the light at the end of the tunnel; “a brutal pilgrimage to meet god”. The concept was inspired when game creator Ezra Szanton went to watch local dungeon synth artists Deep Gnomes and Covered Bridges with Goldberg at a cozy barn in Maine. The collaboration between Szanton, Rebel Jester artist Fergus Ferguson and Goldberg was a very hands-on experience as Szanton shared in a statement;
“Dan’s sound is perfect for this game. He combines dark ambient synths with personal instrumentals in a way that’s melancholy and spooky but also hopeful. To The Flame takes place across 4 areas, each with their own mood. Usually our artist, Fergus Ferguson, would create the art for an area first and then Dan would create music inspired by that art but sometimes it worked the other way around with Dan making music first and Fergus creating art that matched. Oftentimes I would get attached to early drafts of the songs. We decided to keep many of the early drafts in the game as variations, so when you go into an area you have a random chance of hearing essentially a demo track instead of the “final” song. This kind of variation helps keep the player interested even if they’re not making physical progress in the game (which is common because the game is quite difficult). Dan’s music really elevated To The Flame. I remember after putting the music for the main menu into the game, I just sat there for 20 minutes listening to it and thinking “we’re making a real game!!”
The soundtrack becomes a new world in and of itself; meandering through tight and damp crevices, yet manages to feel hauntingly spacious; primitive in nature, yet ghostly in its deliverance. Most of the album was recorded on a cliff over looking the ocean in Maine and was finished in a snowy shack down in New Paltz. Whether through the methodic atmosphere and scratchy recordings of “Not Alone”, the ominous and ethereal presence of “Voice in the Cavern” or the toying pacing and intonations of “Heavenly Light”, the soundtrack creeps along its own decayed and treacherous path to join you as you make your way to that singular light at the end of the tunnel.
Today, the Philly-based project Thank You Thank You has shared a new music video for their latest single, “Watching the Cyclones” which was released earlier this month via Glamour Gowns. As an ever expanding project brought out by the artistic stamina of Tyler Bussey, Thank You Thank You is an imprint of the people who pass through – an articulation of the souls that make a moment long lasting.
“Watching The Cyclones / Not long ago / The diamond gleamed in the sun / The great illusion that’s on my mind / Time standing still on the field for us / It’s going, it’s going, it’s gone.” Oftentimes, the heavy air of summer can be indistinguishable from underlying heartache and impressionable worries, but on the contrary, can be just as easily defined by the vitamin D and the chance to engage with its picturesque revelries. “Watching the Cyclones” thrives in that very tenderness of life, where momentary feelings blend together to form a brand new experience. It’s a patient song, allowing time and energy for the folky groove to exude its charm and make for an enjoyable experience – a chance to look around and see how good things can be.
Shot by Ty, Jesse Gagne and Sam Skinner along with animations by Julia Sutton, the music video for “Watching the Cyclones” becomes a misty morning excursion, a preservation of friendship, and an exploratory of goofing around in empty public places.
About the video, Ty shares, “In September 2022 I went to Coney Island with Jess and Sam, and on a whim on Monday, July 15th, I reached out to both of them to see if they’d like to go there with me at sunrise to make a music video. With nothing but iPhones and apples, this is what we made. We didn’t check the weather forecast and had no idea it was going to be so foggy. The video is a fun testament to making things with your friends and not overthinking it.”
You can watch the video below and stream “Watching the Cyclones” on all platforms now.
look below for some behind the scenes photos taken by Jesse Gagne and Sam Skinner that morning at Coney Island.
There is a sense of longevity that resonates within the artistic musings of Olympia, Washington – almost folkloric – where projects like Generifus have been acclimated to the ever shifting scene while still manage to trailblaze their own paths after decades long careers. Fronted by Spencer Sult, Generifus returns today with “Waking Winter”, the first single from his upcoming album Summerberrys set to be released 10/18.
Recorded up at the Unknown Studio in Anacortes, WA, “Waking Winter” plays to those cutting interludes of change and the deafening moments of stillness that seem to follow. Amidst the shuffling of drums, a reliable movement that sets the tone, Sult pushes forward into a light and hearty groove of sedated bass and spacious keys – “I don’t enjoy this / I should talk to someone / I should get it fixed,” he sings with a melody dedicated to the path ahead and the rhythm underneath. Sult and co. are patient in their delivery, stretching out the edges of their barebone roots while the different brushings of organ tones, twangy guitars and dreamy scale runs animate the track into a leading moment of realization; clarity in the cold.
Kennedy Mann has always held her hand out to sincerity, making a name for her musical and emotional depth at the helm of her dream-pop band, Highnoon. But as of today, Mann shares “On Video”, the new single from her solo endeavors that finds her expanding on her skills as a songwriter and producer. With production help from Grillo and Brendan Simpson, Mann reanimates a song she wrote back in 2019, emphasizing the parts of her that have become unrecognizable while simultaneously marking new beginnings as she looks ahead.
Over a blend of clean guitar tones and the perseverance of a lo-fi drum track, Mann marks her presence in the opening line, singing, “I watch my life on video / How the time just seems to fly.” It’s not an easy story to tell, watching your life go by, yet Mann is commanding in her vulnerability. In the culmination of secondary guitar runs, atmospheric synths and light piano voicings, she creates a spacious piece that leaves room for both personal growth and self-reflection while still filling the void of unanswered questions with the warmth in her delivery and production.
In a statement, Mann says, “The song is about feeling a sense of nostalgia for the parts of you that don’t exist anymore or were changed almost suddenly. I think a big part of growing into yourself is spending time reflecting on difficult memories. Sometimes you think it would be better if everything happened differently. But sometimes it’s best to just take inventory of those events and get on with it. I think this song is my attempt to do so.”
“On Video” is accompanied by a music video made by Mann and shot by Lucy Soutter. Watch below.
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 Philly-based artist Amelia Swain of amelia cry til i die.
Described as queer trans basement emo, amelia cry til i die have become a staple within the homegrown Philly scene and its surroundings as they have accumulated a collection of four track albums, demo compilations and live basement recordings. The sincerity of Swain’s writing puts individuality at the center of any amelia cry til i die album – where moments of absurdity and humor weigh just as heavy as love, heartbreak and promises and each story feels to come from one of our closest friends.
Swain put together a playlist of music all coming out of the West Philly area in the past few years. Enjoy!
You can also find Swain playing drums in Sadurn and bass in Ther
“I think that it is good to want to have a community get together once a week, sing some music together, read together, do all those things,” McKenna acknowledges, a type of grateful reflection across her face as she discussed her approaching EP release show. “I have just had to seek structure and community in different ways, and I think Chicago has been very open to that.”
Edie McKenna is best known for her leading role in the Chicago-based alternative group, Modern Nun, who have spent the last few years dedicated to creating spaces built on acceptance and collective experience through music and community.
With the release of her debut solo EP, For Edie, out everywhere today via Devil Town Tapes, McKenna is leaning more into her folk roots – reliving and repurposing the words she wrote almost a half decade ago. It’s an open letter to her younger self, only four songs long, as For Edie carries past trauma with such confidence – a striking invitation into the life she lived and where she has been headed ever since.
I recently got to sit down with McKenna to discuss the new EP, learning to redefine imprinted expectations and the joy found in mutual congregation.
This interview has been edited for length and clarity
Photo by Cora Kinney
Shea Roney: What was the transition like from St. Paul, Minnesota to Chicago? Where did you find yourself in the music scene here?
Edie McKenna: I graduated in high school in 2016 and moved to Chicago to go to DePaul. I really hadn’t been on my own before and it was really hard. I ended up dropping out of college because I just wasn’t doing well, but I made my core group of friends at DePaul and I fell in love with Chicago. My friend Sophie, whose brother is in the band The Slaps, saw the music that I started posting online and asked if I wanted to open for them. That’s when I had my friend Lee [Simmons], of Modern Nun, come play guitar with me. I think that the music scene was really lacking a lot of non-cis men at the time, so I think we just kept getting asked to play shows. Not to discount any of the non-cis men bands at the time, I just wasn’t aware of them because I was so new. I always was obsessed with indie and folk music, but I thought that I would be, I don’t know, a lawyer or whatever you think you’re going to be when you’re younger. I would just play music for fun, but then it kind of kept going and now I really love it, so I just kept going.
SR: In the past with Modern Nun, your recording sessions were more of what you described as ‘collective experiences of trial and error’. What was it like when you decided to take on these songs?
EM: Maybe this is just for me, but I find recording folk music just a little bit easier because it’s a little more straightforward and I don’t mind being so cheesy. Particularly with these songs, because I wrote them so long ago, the cheesiness is abundant. I don’t care if we’re just playing three chords, that’s fine with me. Whereas, with Modern Nun, it’s just different in that the music is a bit more complicated in a way.
SR: It’s funny because you said you never thought you would put these songs out, claiming that they were ‘too cheesy’ or ‘simple’. Did you find that there came either a motivation or a need for these songs to find daylight?
EM: I don’t know, I felt like I was just sitting on them. I’m lucky to have a really supportive group of friends who knew these songs, particularly “Lava Lamp”, which was one of the first songs I remember ever writing. I just had wanted to work with Seth [Beck] (Rat Future Recordings) for a minute because we were friends outside of this. When we finally got to work together I already had those songs and thought I might as well just try it. It went so well that I was like, why not make it a whole project? This whole thing has been a ‘why not’ sort of situation.
SR: Did the songs go through any changes from when you originally wrote them?
EM: They didn’t really undergo many changes, but I have been really under the influence of distortion, like Neil Young or MJ Lenderman vibe lately. I was just craving to add that to the folk music because I just think it’s so fun. We definitely tweaked them a little bit, because I’m not really a riffer and I wanted Seth, Zack [Peterson] and Eric [Beck] to be able to play off it, so we expanded some of the bridges and the intros and outros, definitely. But the lyrics stayed the same.
SR: Throughout this EP, you write from your own lens of some pretty difficult subject matters, especially on songs like “Kick in the Shin” and “Hail Mary”. What was it like to revitalize those moments and those feelings? Has revisiting these songs sharpened your understanding of your path of healing at all?
EM: I don’t know if I’m there yet, but I definitely have been feeling like I am almost ready to move on from these things. And in order to move on from them, I wanted to put these songs out. I do feel like I have processed these events and feelings and now when I write I don’t talk about them as much anymore. Like this EP was me writing about those experiences. When I named Modern Nun, that was about those experiences. But it is interesting to talk about it and I feel really proud about how far I’ve come. Songs are so specific and I think the best songs in my opinion are really specific moments or stories. It’s like time travel to those moments, but then I get to add something that I’m interested in now, like distortion, and it becomes a merging of two times in my life.
SR: “Swinging” feels like you are cutting yourself some slack, almost a brief grace period on the EP. Can you tell me about that song?
EM: That song is so gay. I’m sure it is definitely something that a lot of queer people experience, like when it’s two people not raised as men trying to make a move on each other. I remember it was impossible, the first date was like a week long and nothing happened, and I was like, ‘okay, that’s kind of the vibe.’ But it gets easier as you get older. That’s kind of what I was writing about. It’s so cute and it’s fun and I’m proud of it. I wanted to release it because I knew it is catchy, but whoa, I cringe. Just a little. Just a little.
SR: There are a lot of instances of longing in these songs – to be accepted, to be loved, etc. Do you feel like you have caught up to those feelings?
EM: No, I don’t think I’ve caught up to those feelings. I definitely think I’ve found my people and I’ve found it in other ways and in moments, but I think that it’s eternal. That feeling was so strong in high school and in early college when I wrote these songs, because, particularly being queer, it was just like, ‘I’m never going to act on these things’, or even, ‘I’m just going to pretend… ’. I also have extreme anxiety, so I get those feelings confused – excitement or yearning with like genuine fear, I get them really confused, so I think it makes the feelings stronger. But I think if you don’t have something to yearn for, what’s the point? It’s like having a crush on life, you’ve got to have something to be excited about it.
SR: While still talking about this longing, did the use of physical placeholders in your writing, such as sunglasses, a lava lamp, or even a malleable prayer make things feel more obtainable, or even just more realistic?
EM: My favorite kind of writing is just very straightforward because I really like someone who respects the intelligence of the reader and the listener. When I was first starting to write songs that I liked, the easiest way to do that is to just be observant and recognize, ‘this is my point of view’. I definitely think that it made the answers more realistic. I think using objects really just grounded me in the present moment because I felt so out of control and in the clouds in my life. They brought my answers into real life and made everything seem real at a time when I was really existing and hiding in my head.
SR: You grew up very religious, and I won’t ask you to dive back into it, but growing up in the foundations of congregation – which at its barebones is people who believe in the same thing/entity – have you found a draw to that same kind of belief when it comes to the local music community here?
EM: Totally, there are a lot of similarities. The things that I grew up doing, in theory, were amazing. Getting together once a week, singing, seeing some art, being with your family, being with other people, reading, talking about the reading, eating together – structure. I think I really struggle because a lot of things in my life I feel like I went from zero to a hundred. I went from not knowing what being gay was and going to private school where you got in trouble for doing the wrong thing always, to immediately smoking weed, etc. I just crave structure and I crave a very rigid routine and seeking that in my adult life has been really complicated. I had to seek structure in different ways through my friends here, which has been a huge learning experience because it’s like, ‘okay, I am living my truth. I am doing what I thought I would be doing just in a different way.’ That’s really nice to think about.
Written by Shea Roney | Feature Photo by Clare O’Mahony
For Edie is out every where today with a limited run of cassettes via Devil Town Tapes
I watched her brave out from under the awning of the Cyclone into a torrential downpour. As I maneuvered keeping my camera safely under an umbrella, a drenched Claire Ozmun sheepishly paused her posing to let a far away family pass by. I found it amusing that even in a massive storm, Claire’s main consideration was pulling too much focus. I wonder if her grunge forefathers would share the same anxiety in the midst of this moment.
I am a photographer and I love working with musicians and getting to know them through my work. A few months ago I reached out to Claire Ozmun about taking artist portraits. In that I stumbled into the fortunate position of becoming her friend and meeting the noble folks of COB, aka Claire Ozmun Band. Everything about her artistic perspective resonated with my desperate need for nostalgic, earnest self-reflection all mixed together with a ripping rock sensibility. I had the honor of shooting her much anticipated Dying in the Wool EP release at the Sultan Room in Brooklyn opened by Hiding Places and Adeline Hotel. They pulled a full house on a Wednesday evening so it was clear that night that we the people were watching COB launch.
I proposed to Claire that we celebrate by doing a photoshoot at Coney Island. When we first arrived at the West 8th street stop and our shoot began, so did a flash flood. Claire said her approach to the rain is to embrace and allow it to do what it will. This connected beautifully to her songwriting; a raw reflection of uncomfortable circumstances. As an artistic director my job is often to interpret the artist’s body of work into visuals that complete their message. I was keen on understanding Claire’s relationship with her visual output from a career standpoint. With a striking soft-grunge aesthetic and a drive to make memories, she aims to document her life authentically. Soaked from the flood we tucked away to a bar on the boardwalk. Claire thought back on arriving in Brooklyn and setting her sights on being a good friend first. With this Midwest sensibility towards friendships and her life-changing experience at School of Song, Claire joined a sturdy community of fellow artists who she continues to build a beautiful life with. She shared that her music, an honest recollection on growing up in Ohio, came to the forefront after she anchored her love in the people around her – the safest kind of love that brings out the best in an artist.
One question I had for Claire was, “what does your music know about you that you want visuals to capture?” She responded, “a non-sugar coated truth, discomfort and rawness. Though there is a silliness, general happiness and appreciation for my life.” We laughed about how the memory-making experience of a flash-flood photoshoot at Coney Island with a buddy embraces all of those qualities. She said, “like when we first got here I was actually so scared and I also wanted to laugh my ass off.” In that spirit, Claire and I left the bar and began hunting for lightning on the beach.
Looking down the road at such a promising career ahead can be so beautiful and daunting. The world of marketing and imagery can be a wild place for musicians. Just because someone is a performer doesn’t mean they are inherently comfortable with their photo taken. Claire is excited to continue into that world though there are reasonable fears around presenting one’s “face and human body.” However, she knows it cannot go wrong while she has her people around her. What better way to express nostalgia than to capture real memories with people you love? I have found in my own life and career that having a trusted community around you easily leads to thriving. It is a rapprochement to get to see yourself in other’s eyes, where that loving safety opens the door for the unknown ahead. Visual translation is very much a game of interpretation and a lesson in knowing. In all of life’s discomfort and hilarity, Claire Ozmun digs into her memories while we get to watch her make more.
To accompany this feature, Claire and Mara put together a supplemental playlist for our listening pleasure.
The untethered project of singer-songwriter Carolina Chauffe – who performs under the name hemlock – has shared two new singles today, “Depot Dog” and “Lake Martin”, premiering here on the ugly hug. This comes as the third group of singles released tandem from their upcoming album 444 set to be self-released on 10/11. Brought to life by the intimate and bountiful friendship of the “Chicago lineup”, composed of Andy “Red” PK, Bailey Minzenberger and Jack Henry, those that have been following the hemlock experience over the years will probably recognize these songs. Previously released within an extensive archive of song-a-day-a-month projects, 444 finds these songs now repurposed, grasping new life, grit and universality as they have grown over time.
Playing to the rush of a windowless drive, “Depot Dog” is consistent, fast and unburdened by the green lights ahead that refuse to break the pace. With a Neil Young-esque sharpness to the sticky guitar tones, the song is determined to the journey as the band falls into a groove of precision. “a throat full of skipping stones / lately lonely, but not alone / windows down cajun music / playin on the bluetooth radio”, Chauffe sings, lamenting the changing seasons and the transitions that follow, relaying to the personal implications of their own shifting surroundings. But building from the wit and charm that has since defined hemlock’s career, Chauffe writes to the peculiar moments of reliability found in the small things that keep us grounded; “unlikely truth like a hot dog from Home Depot / against all odds like a hot dog from Home Depot.”
“Lake Martin” is a rhythmic prayer, a slide show of life’s very construction, as Chauffe romanticizes a swampy south Louisiana sunset in all of its glory. Recorded in one take and putting a cap on the 444 sessions, Chauffe performs with pure sincerity in the midst of an awe inducing stillness. Like the functioning ecosystem of a swamp – “cuz everybody’s someone’s dinner here / the show isn’t for free / I pay my due, I tip my server / generosity reciprocal” – “Lake Martin” is a love letter to the communal harmony we find everywhere we look. Eluding to both our beginnings and ends, the song comes to a close as the backdrop of cars highlight the small, proud exhale from Chauffe, giving the last line the serenity it needs to continue breathing; “What a wonder to be welcomed – full belonging to the beauty of it all.”
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 Toronto, Ontario based artist Kenny Boothby of Little Kid.
You don’t have to sift far in our small music world before coming across Little Kid’s latest record A Million Easy Payments. Released earlier this year – their first via Orindal Records – Payments resonate with such ease, mirroring that of which passes us by everyday and reflecting on the moments often lost and forgotten. As an interchangeable and collaborative unit, Little Kid builds out from their textured and uncompromising folk stylings, beautifully capturing that triumphant feeling of making it through another rough day while still looking forward to the next. To accompany his playlist, Kenny shared a blurb about how these songs came together;
For the past three summers, I’ve been able to spend a few days completely alone on a solo camping trip. Nothing too impressive – I set up a tent and make a fire in a provincial park, with a cooler full of beer and hot dogs in my car – but the solid dose of alone time is so healing. I’ve found camping has a therapeutic aspect for me, in the sense that my only goal each day is to think about what I want or need to do in any given moment, and then do it for myself (this is helpful because as a teacher I spend most of my days monitoring and responding to other people’s needs and wants).
I also listen to a lot of music on these trips. I thought it’d be fun to make a playlist of the stuff I have come back to the most over these past few summers. Neil Young and Florist each show up twice on the playlist because those are the two artists I tend to spend the most time with on these trips. Nothing beats Neil and a beer, and those last couple Florist albums have an unparalleled quiet to them that fits so well when you’re surrounded by forest. Hopefully these songs can help someone else find a little peace and calm during these last few weeks of summer.
the ugly hug 