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.”
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 Chicago-based songwriter Conor Lynch.
Recently making the move from Michigan to Chicago, Conor has become a staple in the Midwest roster of beloved DIY artists that a few places are lucky enough to claim. Writing from the barebones of a certain folk-antiquity, Conor’s words fill a room, offering something easy to latch on to and pocket for later. Starting over ten years ago with SoundCloud releases and sparse single drops, each release since has seen the swift and natural progressions in his growth as a writer. Counting the telephone poles out the car window, following the changing rhythm as it speeds and brakes along the stretch of road, Conor’s songs revel in these moments of commute and rumination; finding some peace within the balancing act of holding the steering wheel steady, brushing the crumbs off your lap and stuffing the wrappers from your snacks into the cup holder, the collection growing larger between each pit stop until you get home.
About the playlist, Conor shared;
“I really love that ugly hug is using YouTube for these guest playlists because for over a decade now YouTube has been one of my most fruitful pathways for discovering new music. There are so many incredible YouTube channels doing legitimate archival work by uploading lost/deleted projects, demos, live show footage, etc. I tried to find songs in my liked videos that aren’t on other streaming platforms besides maybe Bandcamp or the former GOAT, SoundCloud… Also, huge shoutout to all “youtubetomp3″ sites.”
Conor also was one of the first musicians to remove their catalog off of Spotify in protest of the company’s treatment of artists and the funding of AI music and weapon manufacturers.
You can purchase Conor’s full discography now on bandcamp.
Today, the Athens-based band, Crazier, share their debut single “Boat Music”, a stunning display of self-agency and confrontation in the face of harassment and antagonistic patterns. Previously performing under the name Starpower, Crazier is now made up of guitarist and vocalist Eli Raps, guitarist Winston Barbe, drummer Alex Dillon and bassist Kevin Cregge. As a standalone track “Boat Music” showcases a band performing with both ferocious grit and alluring delicacy as Crazier stakes their claim and prepares for their debut EP set to be released this April.
Caught in a rhythmic pull, a formidable progression of rolling guitars and tempting percussion, “Boat Music” takes control with a defining confidence right out the gate. “Picture this: I love you / Then I stop / what are you gonna do now?”, Raps offers with her unique vocal style, moving with the momentum of the band and in no way offering space for a conversation to be had. Written about a period where Raps became the target of persistent harassment for speaking openly about the sexual assault she experienced while operating within the Athens music scene, the command of “picture this” becomes stronger in its repetition, driving each point further into a delusional perception as Raps and the band break through to the other side with full-bodied synths and satisfying guitar voicings.
Watch the music video for “Boat Music” here.
You can listen to “Boat Music” out everywhere now. Crazier is gearing up to release their debut EP this April.
Written by Shea Roney | Photo courtesy of Ruination Records
Always testing the boundaries of perspective and “surrendering to the loneliness of having a good time”, Brooklyn’s Jackie West is no stranger to writing from the multitudes stacked within her surroundings. Today, West returns with her new single, “Silent Century”, the title track of her upcoming LP out on February 27th via Ruination Records.
Simple and steady, West becomes entrenched in the rhythmic display of “Silent Century”, embracing the sonic vibrations that she has been foraging for so long now, giving space to root and to blossom both her and the track’s natural progression of growth. Playing alongside Dan Knishkowy (Adeline Hotel), Sean Mullins (Moon Mullins), Nico Osborne (Nicomo), “Silent Century” shifts between instinctive folk melodies and colorful pop hooks, where the complexity of feelings can rummage through different sonic interpretations that really bring life to this expressive and enduring motive – something that has made West such an absorbing and poignant songwriter to watch over the years.
About “Silent Century”, West shares, “some experiences—especially intimate or spiritual—communicate without language, moving through us like traditions or instincts that endure quietly for generations. “Silent Century” draws on the Taoist idea that silence is a medium of understanding—the flower doesn’t explain itself, and water doesn’t lecture the stone; yet both express and reshape the world over vast spans of time.”
Listen to “Silent Century” here.
Silent Century is set to be released February 27th via Ruination Records. You can listen to the single out now, as well as preorder the album on vinyl.
Written by Emily Moosbrugger | Featured Photo by Noa Francis
Last month Minneapolis-based songwriter runo plum released her debut album “patching,” after five years of self-releasing a series of singles and EPs. Joined by co-producer Lutalo and instrumentalist and girlfriend Noa Francis, runo recorded the album in two weeks in a cabin in rural Vermont. The resulting 12 songs were described by runo as “emotional fragments” of her healing process compiled into one project.
Rooted in the aftermath of a recent heartbreak, “patching” places its trust in life’s natural cycles. As early as the opening line, runo’s plainspoken, cool delivery echoes a calming sense of patience amidst her growing anxieties: “As long as it doesn’t mean it’s a big sickness/ Mighty fine with me, I’ve been already through this.” The record moves through the ebbs and flows of emotional reconstruction, drifting from daydreamed fantasies of sweeter times to soul-baring introspection. “There’s gotta be a way to get out from under the mud,” she sings on “Pond” with a yearning for clarity. It is moments like these that define “patching,” in which runo makes clear that even in her deepest melancholy, she is held together by a faith in her natural ability to be put together again.
Photo by Alexa Vicious
Congratulations on your first record release? How does it feel to have it out?
Hello! It’s surreal, and a big relief.
You described these songs as “emotional fragments” of your healing process patched together into one project. In addition to writing these songs, do you feel like sharing them with the world is part of your process of healing?
Absolutely, it feels like the final step in some way.
You mentioned you had written enough material for three records at the time of writing “patching” – how were you able to separate these songs from everything you wrote at that time?
The main two are split between the more “folk” ones and the heavier more “rock” ones. The third are just shitty sappy discarded songs that I will probably never use lol!
I read that you put out your first release through Bandcamp in 2020. You’ve been able to gather a community of listeners from around the world since then – has having a community like this impacted your relationship to music making?
Totally. It’s definitely kept me going during certain moments. It’s really touching to be able to make something that is meaningful to more than just myself.
Had you been writing music for a while before you started releasing your songs?
Never consistently. I would write occasionally since I was like 14 ish. Maybe like a dozen songs in total in my teen years. Then I really started writing in my 20s.
How do you feel your songwriting and recording process have changed from the time you started putting music out to now?
My songwriting especially has gotten a lot more meaningful to me. I’ve had a hard time being able to access that in the past, and being able to properly articulate how I was feeling. In the beginning I had a lot of songs where I wasn’t really saying anything, I was sort of just rambling about random things. I still write like that sometimes but generally it all feels more cohesive to me.
For recording, in the beginning I had no idea what I was doing. I taught myself how to produce and record for the first couple years, and then Phillip Brooks came along and helped me record the early stuff I have out. But we were really just both figuring it out as we went. A lot of the songs on ‘patching’ feel like the sound I was trying to get to for many years.
One of my favorites on the record is “the Quiet One” – You open with the line “how can I make this as vague as I possibly can?” – I love that because you touch on wanting to come off strong to your subjects yet your songwriting is so intimate and raw. How would you describe your relationship to vulnerability within songwriting?
Oh wow, yeah. That one is somewhat of a black sheep of the album that I made fit in. It’s funny because I started with that first line, and then it turned out to not be so vague. This song was a place for me to put my feelings about a short lived thing I had with someone. I never shared it with them, so having it out is definitely pretty vulnerable, but I think that is just a part of being an artist, and especially a writer. It is all just very human feelings and I know so many relate to this stuff so that makes it easier to share.
The outro stands out from the rest of the record both lyrically and instrumentally – can you tell me a little bit about that imagery and this song?
Yeah! This was originally a poem I wrote during a really beautiful walk I had last summer. It was one of those weird weather moments when it was slightly raining and also sunny. It felt very representative of the contrast I was feeling in my emotional world. At that point I was falling in love again after the breakup that was the catalyst for patching, and I had reached a level of beauty and peace that felt really unexpected.
You can listen to patching out everywhere now as well as grab it on vinyl, CD or cassette via Winspear. Catch runo plum on her first headlinging US tour starting in February.
Interview by Ella Hardie | Photo Courtesy of Gren Bee 4/20/2025 at Empty Bottle.
The first time I saw MaryMary! perform live was in 2023 at a short-lived DIY venue in Avondale called “The Rabbit Hole,” with her nest of wires, synthesizers, and pedals set up on a couple of folding tables. This was among the first house shows I’d attended in Chicago, the very first electronic show I’d ever seen, and one of the first times I’d seen Mary, my coworker at the time, outside of work, though this wasn’t Mary’s show—it was MaryMary!’s show. Her backdrop could’ve just been the basement’s paint-chipped walls sparsely adorned with band stickers, sharpie’d declarations of love, and duct-taped fliers from shows past, but she turned the space into a spectacle: on her left, neon green lasers swirled on the wall and live camcorder footage of herself was projected on her right. These visuals and an epic cover of Big Thief’s then-unreleased “Vampire Empire” made for a night to remember (and be forever immortalized via blog).
A lot’s changed since: Mary and I haven’t worked together in a hot minute, she released two singles in October, and she just headlined Empty Bottle for the second time this year. MaryMary! is a Chicago-based experimental synth-pop artist, though using the term “experimental synth-pop” for her work feels a bit limiting. There are a lot of words you could use to describe MaryMary!’s music: intricate, delicate, heavy, staticky, glitchy, bubbly, jangly, industrial, innovative, super fucking awesome, etc. It’s hard not to cast a wide net when trying to pin down an artist whose personal mantra is “I CAN DO ANYTHING.” Maybe it’s better not to pin her down at all… In the years since that basement show, MaryMary! has cemented herself as a fervent advocate of DIY culture and a fixture of Chicago’s prolific electronic music scene. With her knack for elaborate, meticulously planned live shows, her inimitable stage presence, and a repertoire of covers ranging from Big Thief to Ween to obscure 1970s alt-disco artists who don’t even have Wikipedia pages, MaryMary! is a force to be reckoned with.
Photo from MaryMary!’s 4/20/2025 show at Empty Bottle by Noah Sebek.
This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.
Mary finds me by the bar wearing a Celebrity DUI sweatshirt over her stage outfit with an Old Style in her hand. We scurry upstairs to Empty Bottle’s green room, which has less of a punk-rock vibe and more of a cozy millennial office vibe than I was expecting. Her friends and fellow performers—one of which is dressed up as a nun—sit on the couch while Mary and I take over the end of a large wooden table, sitting in swivel chairs. We chat for a few minutes before the “formal” interview begins, but we’re in a bit of a time crunch because the first act is on in a little over half an hour.
Overlapping chatter in the background. I move my phone on the table closer to Mary and start recording:
E: So… tonight is a big night…
M: It’s the MaryMary! Rock Show here at Empty Bottle! I’m very excited.
E: How long have you been sitting on this and planning this night?
M: This show in particular has been kind of a vague sketch of an idea for a few months, and only over the past few days has it fully materialized…I dunno, this is my second headlining show here at Empty Bottle, and the first one was a HUGE spectacle that I put, like, everything I had into—well, I’m certainly throwin’ a lot of myself into this one too—but that first one I did, pretty much every single detail was planned in advance. I had a lot of stage design and costume design and choreography and a five-piece band… Now there’s gonna be three of us onstage, it’s a little bit less going on… I took the remnants of the things I thought worked for that show and stripped it down a bit so it didn’t have to be a thing that took over my life for months. But it still has a degree of spectacle beyond just, like, a show that I just get thrown on, y’know?
[In classic Mary fashion, this show still had giant tentacled inflatables, flashing light sequences, and multiple tv screens onstage.]
E: Did you also put the bill together?
Mary nods and smiles.
E: Is it friends… or…?
M: Some friends… WOOF, who play before me, I don’t know them super well personally, but I saw them play at a friend’s house party a while ago and was really into them. I thought that they’d make for a great vibe. And then Celebrity DUI, who play before them, are dear friends of mine. Morrigan, who’s the singer and guitar player, played in my band back in April. All good people, great performers.
E: I’m curious about the “Rock Show” part specifically tonight, what’s different about this show? Is it the partial band aspect? The general vibe?
M: Partial band aspect, partial vibe… We’re really leaning into our more punk arrangements, just very grunge-y in vibes. We’re playing a lot of covers tonight, re-vamping a lot of songs, still with the “Mary Flair” —
E: With the Classic Mary Flair, of course—
M: Exactly. This is kinda my excuse to pick a lot of, like, rock songs that I’ve always thought I would love to either hear live or play live, and just do it, y’know? And those will be interspersed with some of my favorites of mine that are more guitar-centric.
E: Can you tell me what any of the covers are…? Or you could leave it a surprise, it’s up to you…
M: Yeah, I’ll do artists! I’m covering a song by Ween—
E: OH MY GOD, what song?
M: “Doctor Rock?” From “The Pod!”
E: YES! YES! I’ve gotten really into Ween in the past, like, month and a half—
M: They’re the best, they fuckin’ rock. All in on Ween.
E: You don’t even have to say any more, I’m sat—
[More chatting about Ween that I have to cut for time.]
M: Yeah, we’re opening the show with our Ween cover, we’re playing some Harry Nilsson, we’re covering this great song by Ingrid Mansfield Allman, who’s a great alt-disco artist of the 70s and 80s; she also just went by “Ingrid,” and she played in Ian Drury’s band, The Blockheads. There’s a song of hers I’ve been playing for a year at this point, pretty much at every one of my shows. It’s a cover—y’know, because I didn’t write it—but I kinda rearranged it from the ground up. It’s called “Stop Wasting Your Time, You Could be Wasting Mine,” and I dunno, it’s just one of my favorite songs. The original is more of a disco-funk, alternative synth-pop kind of thing and the way I arranged it is a more grunge-y, feedback-y, more post-punk-y situation.
E: Oh hell yeah. How do you pick a song to cover?
M: I’d say, more often than not, it’s a song that I hear and I think, “Oh, I think I could have a fun handle on this.”
E: More people need to think about covers that way…
M: 100%! The Harry Nilsson cover tonight [“Jump into the Fire”] is the first time I’ve ever approached a cover being like, “I just wanna play this straight.” I just want to play it how the song sounds, ‘cuz it’s a song I’ve seen LCD Soundsystem play a cover of before and that rocked my shit. They just kinda played it as it’s recorded on Nilsson Schmilsson, so I may as well just carry on that tradition.
E: Yeah, sometimes it’s more of a “don’t fix it if it ain’t broke” situation.
M: Exactly, exactly. But then, I’m also playing a cover of one of my favorite songs, “The City,” by Dismemberment Plan, and that’s a song that I’ve been playing a cover of since… God, what year is it…? I’ve been playing that song for four years at this point… It was one of the first songs that I arranged when I first got into step-sequencers and drum machines. That song is a math-y emo song from the late 90s, and I rearranged it as a synthesizer-based dance pop song. That’s like, the closest I get to purely pop music tonight, but y’know, I figured I’m covering a grunge-y emo band, so I might as well loop it in there.
[I had no idea this song was a cover… I’ve been under the impression that “The City” was an unreleased MaryMary! original for years… ]
E: Are you planning to play either of your two newest singles?
M: Yes! I’m gonna be playing the B-Side to the single I just put out, “Self Love in the Time of HRT,” which is one of my favorite songs I’ve ever written. The song that’s the A-Side, “Never Ever Ever (kms)” is a song that I have a lot of fondness for, and I kinda put this show together thinking, like, “Well, I’m putting out these two singles, I’ll find a way to work them both into the set,” and then… I just didn’t really find a way to work in the A-Side…but I’m very excited to play “Self Love.”
E: Mary, that song is so beautiful! It starts so slow and lulls you into… I dunno if it’s necessarily a “false sense of security,”but the complete vibe-shift in the middle is SO disarming and awesome, I was just talking to Aphra about it today—
M: Yes! Aphra Jane, who is the best in the world and who, for the reader at home, masters my stuff. She’s a fucking creative genius—
[We spend the next couple minutes gushing over Aphra Jane and her work. I also have to cut this for time but WE LOVE HER.]
E: I want to talk more about those two recent releases, which are very timely in a number of ways, and this is a super general question—perhaps a bit of a loaded one—that you can take however you want to, but: What’s the story behind these songs?
M: “Self Love,” the song I’ll be playing tonight, has a little bit more of a longer history… That was a riff I was playing on the acoustic guitar for years before I worked it into a whole thing. I think this last November, especially post-election, I had a Crisis of Self where I was like, “What am I doing if I’m not making art about the fear that I feel in this moment, but also about the affirmations I need to give myself?” And “Never Ever Ever” is kind of an escalation of that. I wrote that over the course of, like, one day in February where the news was just getting worse and worse, specifically in regards to trans rights, and I was spiraling really hard. I kinda wrote that song as an affirmation of, “Well, they can fight as much as they want, I’m gonna stay alive, I’m gonna keep doing my thing and do a really good job at it.” And then I sat on it for a while and didn’t release it until earlier this month. I still have a lot of love for that song, but I feel the immediacy kinda left? When I wrote it in February and played it live for the first time the week after I wrote it, that was the best I’ll ever play that song. It was so fresh and I think the energy in the room was just really feeling it. While I definitely think it’s a song that I need and a song that will do good by people, I also think nothing will top the first week after having written it and playing it live. I released them as a dual-single ‘cuz they both celebrate similar—well, not “celebrate,” but they both explore similar themes while varying pretty greatly in tone and sonic style. “Never Ever” is more electronic pop-country—we’ve got a pedal-steel solo and the primary instrument’s the acoustic guitar on that one—while “Self Love” is more creepy synths and acoustic guitar that explode into a grunge thing…
She trails off to find the words:
M: It’s hard to explain that one, but, y’know…
E: Everyone should probably just go listen to it—
M: Yeah, it’s more acoustic… into grunge… with an electronic backbone. But I feel like the two songs are split sides of the same coin—
E:Spiritual sisters, if I may…. M: Yeah, definitely. I think “Self Love” is going to end up on my LP that I’m working on finishing right now, which I’m very excited for. I’m not sure about “Never Ever” yet, I’m still debating…
4/20/2025 at Empty Bottle.
E: You touched on this a little bit earlier, but in response to the fucking shit show that’s going on right now, you’re someone whose social media presence—and just in general, knowing you as a person—is so community-oriented and always boosting other people’s stuff. I feel like half the time you’re on Instagram like, “I’m doing this cool thing!” and the other half is, “Look at this cool thing my friend is doing!” Which I think is super awesome and you’ve put me onto a lot of things I never would’ve found on my own. To you, what’s the value of creative communities, going to live shows, and generally turning to art in the face of all the… awfulness, I guess, for lack of a better term?
M: I feel a lot of conflict with that. There are times where I kinda feel guilt and shame throwing so much energy into art while there’s so much targeting my community and so many other groups. Chicago as a whole is… kind of a mess right now, but being able to platform other queer people or trans people, or just anyone being targeted by this horrible administration, just feels very… It feels very great to know that we’re going to continue doing this and making this, and by doing so establishing that we’re all here for each other. The connections keep growing and the love keeps growing. I also sometimes worry that it’s a distraction, to an extent, and a big thing I’m trying to grapple with is how to be a little more politically minded about how I do this. I love elevating my fellow artists, but also I need to make sure that I’m not just, like, doing the plot of Cabaret, y’know?
This last line gets me good. Mary pauses while I chuckle.
M: Which is a thing that I think a fucking lot about, like, art spaces are very important in times like this, but also I can’t let this serve as a distraction of what’s going on outside of those art spaces.
E: That’s so true. Of course, there’s so much to be said about art being a grounding thing in these moments, but it’s only one part of a bigger thing that needs to happen and is happening—
M: Oh, absolutely! I don’t think we should all put away our instruments or whatever, I’m still putting on these shows, but I guess it’s more about refusing to ignore reality. Like, right now in Chicago, ICE is sweeping people off the streets—I almost said “indiscriminately,” but actually very discriminately… They’re doing nothing but selecting people based off the color of their skin to detain, kidnap, whatever verb you wanna use, and it’s hard not to feel extremely bogged down and scared every second of the day watching this happen—
Mary gets interrupted by A HUGE (obviously unrelated) wave of laughter rippling over the musicians sitting on the couch across the room. We all lose our trains of thought.
A beat.
M: I dunno… I don’t know where I’m going with that, but shit’s horrible right now and I just don’t want to forget the reality of what’s going on, even if I know there’s importance to making art at this time.
E: It’s a hard line to walk and, like, no one is doing it perfectly, and I think even the fact that you’re thinking about it this much and talking about it during an interview about yourself says a lot.
Mary sighs.
M: Well, thank you.
E: Thank you. And not to be super corny, but at the end of the day…we all have each other!
M: We’ve all got each other. So I guess another part of putting shows like this on is just being intentional about who I book and making sure it’s folks I can stand by. Not only their politics, but knowing I’m not taking the easy way out with who I platform. Like, I have a lot of friends who I could put on the stage with me and I want to make sure I’m venturing outside of who I hang out with on a daily basis.
E: That’s actually a perfect segue into my last question… Back in the day at the ol’ Trader Joe’s—
M: Yes, when we worked together at Trader Joe’s—
[2022-2023]
E: Yes, the things we bonded over immediately were, like, Big Thief and Adrianne Lenker, Talking Heads, a bunch of different movies, all those things. One of your tags on Letterboxd—which has a ton of movies on it, by the way—is your “dope and inspiring” tag…
Mary beams.
M: YES!
E: I just love that. And I associate that phrase with you so much—
M: That means the world to me! I love art that is dope and inspiring!
E: It’s just such a quintessential Mary phrase, and any time I’m stumped on what movie to watch I’m like, “lemme see what Mary liked…” I seriously reference that list all the time—
M: Ugh, that’s a dream, that makes me so happy to hear—
Now we’re both beaming.
E: So the question with that is, and I’m sure you can guess where this is going: Who are some artists you find dope and inspiring? It doesn’t have to just be Chicago, but—
M: I can stick to Chicago people! Some of the most dope and inspiring artists out there are, well, everyone on the bill with me tonight—not to play the politician—but WOOF and Celebrity DUI for sure. My dear friends Future Nest and Anne Helen Wells are incredible… Sulffffffur and her group Anti-Soul Organization…Sulffffffur spelled with six F’s, by the way—
E: Yes, yes, I remember her set from that show you played in [____]’s basement!
M: Yeah! Oh my God, wow…
E: That was a while ago—
M: But her work and her group’s work in particular is some of the most forward-thinking electronic music I’ve ever heard, like, fucking incredible stuff. It’s so felt, it’s so organic, but also it’s so well intentioned and articulated, stuff I could only dream of making. Bloodhype’s a great local duo who make very fun, dope and inspiring music… Let’s see…oh my gosh, so many people that I’m probably forgetting… Ishtar Sr! She’s not a Chicago person, she’s based in Philly, but her record, wifef*cker ultra, is some of the coolest shit in the fucking world. I bought it on a flashdrive when she came here on tour. Um… Yeah… And I also want to shout out the films of Edward Yang! He died years ago, but I’m not gonna stop shouting out A Brighter Summer Day and Yi Yi, some of the most dope and inspiring shit I’ve ever seen!
E: Hell yeah! Any last closing remarks…?
M: Fuck ICE, Free Palestine, and listen to music by trans people.
You can find MaryMary! anywhere you listen to music.
the ugly hug 