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queenbirbs · 4 years ago

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waiting for rain | Ethan x MC

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x MC

Warnings: language

Word count: 2,786

Summary: After the funeral, Sloane catches a ride. Post chapter 11.

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It’s a beautiful day.

The last week has been nothing but blue skies and balmy temperatures, with autumn peeking its head around the corner. The city is lovely anytime of year, but Boston thrives in the fall. The Common and adjacent gardens come alive in a spray of colors as the leaves change, the canopy dipped in orange and yellow and red.

It feels wrong, then, that the day is so nice and bright as they trudge along the rows of graves and back towards Bryce’s car. Glancing over her shoulder, Sloane frowns at the swath of black as Danny’s family gathers around the grave to watch the interment. Their labored breathing and soft cries carry over the open lawn and down to the road.

“What a shitty fucking day.” Jackie kicks at a pile of loose gravel along the pavement with her heel.

“At least the rain held off,” Sienna pipes up from where she’s slumped against the car. Clenched in her shaking hand is a gladiolus that Danny’s sister gave her from the casket spray. Noticing Sloane’s attention on the flower, Sienna traces a finger along the white petals with a wobbly smile. “I’m going to press it in my copy of The Secret of Ninradell.”

“Nerd,” Jackie mutters, coaxing a tremulous chuckle from Sienna.

Beside them, the doors unlock with a droning whir. The three of them pile into the back; Elijah and Bryce’s voices drift down as they approach.

“You know, all those parking tickets you keep getting are starting to make a lot more sense now.”

“These hands are for performing surgical miracles, not parallel parking on an incline.”

“A kid with a learner’s permit could parallel park this, dude. Your car is the Chevrolet equivalent of a sardine can.”

“We’re well aware of that,” Jackie chimes in from the center seat. “So can you two hurry it up?”

As Bryce helps Elijah into the passenger seat, Sloane catches sight of Ethan’s car tucked in along the other side of the access road. She caught a brief glance of him at the graveside service, but he disappeared into the crowd of mourners soon after her impromptu eulogy. The sun’s reflection on his windshield prevents her from seeing if he’s even inside. But then, a few cars down, Harper gives a little goodbye wave towards his car as she and Aurora reach her own vehicle.

Sloane throws open the door. Jackie frowns and reaches out for her as she slides out.

“Hey, what are you--”

“I’m going to catch a ride with Dr. Ramsey.” At the wave of worried expressions she receives, Sloane sighs. “I’m okay. I promise. You guys shouldn’t… I’ll see you at home.”

With that pithy attempt at reassurance, she shuts the door and crosses over to the S-Class. The driver’s side window rolls down before she reaches it, revealing Ethan in his customary black suit. His striking blue eyes are tinged red -- a sight Sloane has become accustomed to over the last week when catching herself in the bathroom mirror.

“Hi,” she says.

“Hello,” he returns. He glances down her figure, as if cataloging something, and then back up to meet her eyes. “Come on, then.”

“Thanks.”

She crosses to the passenger side and settles into the seat, avoiding his curious gaze by feigning a struggle with the seatbelt. Thankfully, he drops whatever question is plaguing him and starts the engine. Within a few minutes, they’re cruising south down the highway. The classical station finishes its latest piece and the suave-voiced host segways into a round of commercials. When the local news spot starts, both of them reach for the volume button, their fingers bumping clumsily. Ethan reaches it first and turns off the radio, then reaches down to capture Sloane’s hand with his. He links their fingers and squeezes, once, then again, before resting their clasped hands against the leather armrest. His thumb makes easy, gentle strokes along her skin.

Sloane eases back into her seat. The dull roar of the road isn’t enough to fill the aching silence inside her head. It makes her think of being back in that tented room, all alone, waiting to die.

“The service was lovely, as was your eulogy.”

“Sienna should’ve gotten to speak. She -- those were her words, all she could bear to write, but she asked… well, begged me at the last minute to say them for her.”

“That was kind of you to do.”

Her eyes clench tight at his praise. She focuses on the measured sweeps of his thumb, but all the bitterness in her chest keeps building and building until it bursts free.

“It should’ve been raining. Why was it… why did it have to be so sunny today? It should’ve rained. He deserved that much, at least. He was one of the only staff on my side when Landry was trying to sabotage me. He didn’t need proof or need to hear my friends vouch for me. He just believed me, straight up. And he was so sweet, and so kind, and so funny and now he’s dead, and I know we took Lasagna’s oath to not play God, but if I could, I would bring back Travis just to kill him for all the hurt he caused, and I know that goes against every--”

“Hey.” Ethan glances up from the road and over to meet her watery gaze. “It’s all right. You’re allowed to feel angry, and hurt.”

“I know,” she says, but it still feels dirty, somehow, to agree. She survived, didn’t she? Why should she get the privilege to fall apart at the seams when two people are dead and buried six feet under?

She keeps quiet for the rest of the drive. Unfortunately, it’s a rather short one, what with the cemetery being only twenty minutes north of the city. All too soon, they’re crossing the Tobin Bridge. The city skyline crowds the horizon, stacks of gray and glass forking up into the cloudless sky. Ethan takes the wide curve of an exit that crosses the Charles River and into the tunnel, down below the blue blood streets of Boston. As he prepares to merge over to take them towards her apartment, she squeezes his hand to grab his attention.

“Can I…?” she trails off, regretting how weak the request sounds. She bites back a relieved sigh when he pulls his focus away from the side mirror and over to her.

“Of course.”

They make their way through the ever-present downtown congestion before he turns down a side street and into his building’s garage. Neither speak as they exit the car. His hand finds hers once more as they step into the elevator. Jenner greets them at the door with her favorite stuffed duck, insisting on meeting her quota of belly rubs before allowing them entrance.

“Would you like a drink?” Ethan asks as he steps over the sprawled form of his dog with practiced ease.

“Yes, please.”

After a few more pats, Sloane wanders over into the kitchen. Ethan’s suit jacket lays slung across the island, a more telling sign of his mental state than anything visible on his face. His tie joins the pile as he pours them both several fingers of scotch. She takes the tumbler and knocks it back, ignoring the fierce burn at the back of her throat; she hands it back for a refill.

“Fine,” he sighs, “but this isn’t a jello shot at some tiki bar in Panama City Beach.”

“I wouldn’t know, seeing as I spent my spring breaks waiting tables,” she mutters against the rim of her glass, taking a small sip at his behest.

“I hated every second of it, if it’s any consolation.”

The murmured confession draws her up short.

“Wait -- you were a PCB spring-breaker? You? The man who can’t name a single artist on the top forty hits? The person whose idea of a good time is reading the green journal and annotating the margins with all the mistakes?”

“I don’t see how knowledge of Harry Mars’s discography would increase my enjoyment in life.”

Sloane’s face breaks into a grin at the name faux pas, prompting a scowl from him. “What? You said it yourself that I don’t know--”

“No, no, ignore me. Go on.” She rests her hip against the counter. “Please tell me about how you wound up in Florida for spring break.”

“It was Tobias’s idea, actually. He told me we were going to a medical conference in Atlanta. It wasn’t until we passed through Atlanta and he showed no sign of stopping that he told me where we were actually going. By that point, it was far too late to request he turn around. I was, in effect, doomed.”

“Doomed to spend a week at the beach. Poor you.” Rolling her eyes, she knocks her elbow into his side. “Did you at least have some fun?”

“I did. Well, after I went into a store and bought some more... appropriate clothing. Everything in my bag was pressed khakis and polos.”

Her mind immediately conjures up a younger Ethan, wearing board shorts and flip flops in whatever searing color the local beach shop sold.

“There has to be pictures, right? I’ve met Tobias, he’s too much of a snake not to have snapped a photo or two.”

“I’m sure he does,” Ethan agrees. “For blackmail purposes, of course.”

“And here I was hoping that our time in Miami was your most memorable trip to the Sunshine State.”

“It was.” The weak little smirk she wears disappears, folding under the intense scrutiny of his gaze as it rakes across her. “Why did you ride back with me?” he asks.

“Because Bryce’s car is ‘the Chevrolet equivalent to a sardine can,’ according to Elijah.”

He doesn’t acknowledge her lame attempt at brushing aside the question. When the silence grows too long between them, Sloane drags in a shaky breath and caves. “Because being around them, having them dote on me and worry about me, it’s… suffocating. And not because I don’t love them, or appreciate them, but I don’t… I don’t see the point. They should be able to grieve without me burdening them.”

“Sloane.” The way he says her name with all the care in the world drives that guilt deeper. She wants to shrug away his hold on her as he wraps his arms around her shoulders, but she doesn’t. She sinks into his embrace, breathing in the scent of his cologne, feeling the thud of his heart against her cheek. “You are not a burden.”

“Hearing that and knowing that are two different things,” she points out.

“Then I’ll repeat it a thousand more times until you get it through your thick head.”

“I don’t know what to do. I’m sad, and hurt, and angry about Danny. He didn’t deserve what happened to him, and neither did Bobby. And Rafael, he almost died, and-- and I almost died. And I’m sad, and hurt, and angry about that. But what gives me the right to feel that way, when I got to live, and they didn’t? Danny, he… he begged Travis to let us go, and all I did was stand there. I fucking stood there and let him kill my friend.”

She doesn’t notice the tears on her face, not until Ethan catches them and wipes them away. “And even after you came in, even after I was wheeled out and got to see Kyra, even after I was discharged, there’s been this crushing weight on my chest. I even wrote goodbye letters on my phone, but I can’t bring myself to delete them. Because what if we’re wrong? It’s like… like what if my body suddenly rejects the antidote and I’m back in that bubble? Like I’m going to wake up and be back in that room, as if this is all a last-ditch effort my brain has conjured up to help me cope with dying.”

Ethan makes a pained noise in the back of his throat. Gathering her impossibly closer, he presses his lips to her hair.

“This is real. You’re okay. You’re safe, Sloane. This is real.”

“But I don’t want it to be. I want it to all be some sick dream. They wouldn’t’ve even been there if it weren’t for me. If I hadn’t stolen the senator from Mass Kenmore, Danny and Bobby would still be alive. I just… I want to go back. I want to order them all out of that room before Travis ever gets his hand on that canister. If I could trade places with them, we wouldn’t be burying our friends.”

“You’re wrong,” he tells her. “If you were the only one in that room, we’d be burying you. And after coming close to such a thing, it isn’t a reality I’m ever willing to face.”

Sloane shakes her head as the tears come faster and faster, her body trembling against his. She feels as if she’s drowning, but her head’s above water.

“The responsibility for what happened lies solely with Travis,” he tries to assure her. “He’s the one who pulled the trigger. He’s the one who was determined to get his revenge, no matter who got caught in the crossfire. He admitted as much to me in his last moments without an ounce of regret.”

“Ethan, I…” her throat closes around the rest of her plea, but somehow, he hears the words.

His arms loop around her waist, holding her up as her knees buckle under the sudden weight of her grief. His words become nothing more than soft murmurings as he picks her up and carries her off down the hall.

In his bedroom, he sets her down on the bed. Kneeling before her, he picks up one foot and then the next, unbuckling the strappy heels she wears. Sloane leans forward and strokes against the grain of his stubble; she drags in a steadying breath when he leans into her touch. She reaches down for the hem of her dress, but he beats her to it. Raising her arms instead, she lets him slide the dark fabric over her head. He adds his own clothing to the floor, then joins her in his bed, his naked skin warm against hers.

Under the covers, Ethan tucks her there against his chest. Her eyes flutter closed at the sensation of his fingers tracing along her bare skin. It reminds her of that last morning they shared together, after the trial. The heartache now is different, vicious in that way only death can be. Sloane burrows closer, wishing she could bottle this feeling of safety and drink from it on the darker days ahead.

“Yours was the longest,” she admits, her voice sounding small in the quiet room.

“Hmm?” he murmurs.

“Your letter.”

The line of him stiffens, his hand stilling its movement.

“Hand me your phone.”

She rolls over and digs through the pile of their clothing, retrieving her phone from the pocket of her dress and handing it off to him. He holds it between them so she can watch as he navigates to her notepad app. The letters are all there, just as she said, in alphabetical order. She doesn’t miss how his thumb hovers above Naveen’s.

“I asked him to look after you,” she explains, biting her lip against the rush of emotion at knowing the words hidden beneath the names.

“When did you write these?”

Ethan’s eyes move from the screen and over to hers, tears collecting in the cradle of his lower lid. Her gaze never waves from his as she answers.

“After you took Raf away. It… became real, after that. Not that it wasn’t real before, with Danny, but to see him fall into a coma right next to me was a wake-up call. I didn’t want that to happen to me. Not without being able to say goodbye to the people I loved.”

Leaning across, he kisses her temple, and then her cheek, and then her lips. Then, with a few, quick taps, he deletes the letters and returns her phone.

“Thank you,” he whispers. At her raised brow, he doubles down. “Not for-- that was for you. I’m saying thank you because you listened to me.”

She snuggles close once more when he curls his arm around her and flashes him a curious smile.

“Go on.”

“You didn’t give up,” he tells her, his voice gone thick with emotion.

Between the sheets, her hand finds his.

“You didn’t give up, either,” she reminds him.

“On you?” he hums, pulling their linked hands towards himself to press a kiss to her fingers. “Never.”

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Author notes and what-have-yous:

So, I learned that only eleven percent of medical schools still recite the Hippocratic oath verbatim, and about thirty-three percent use Lasagna’s modern oath (which is why I included it instead).This is coming from a few articles I read, all seemingly based in the U.S., so it may not pertain to every school.

The ‘blue blood streets of Boston’ is pulled directly from a Bob Seger song, though there is a historical connotation behind it.

The green journal is another name for the American Journal of Medicine.

#open heart fic #ethan x mc #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #open heart #Kaila writes things #f: waiting for rain

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butiknewyou · 4 years ago

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Hey! I’m really curious, could you tell us your favourite Taylor lyrics?

Ps. I love your posts and interpretations of Taylor’s music 💕

omg this is SO kind thank you so much 🥺🥺🥺

before sharing my lyrics I want to say that I’m going to try to say lyrics from songs that aren’t on my favorites list because otherwise I wouldn’t be able to pick but I think every single lyric in red (the song), seven, cardigan, dear john, and my tears ricochet is one of her all-time best 🥺♥️ also I’m incapable of shutting up so I’m going to say what I love about each lyric

I’m like the water when your ship rolled in that night / rough on the surface but you cut through like a knife: I love absolutely everything about this and I rewind willow every time to hear her say it again. I LOVE the theme of being closed off until someone comes along and you take your walls down, I love the idea that they were part of each other’s journeys (ship on water), and I love that this ties into the recurring motifs of ships and water throughout the album. what an opening line.

leave the perfume on the shelf / that you picked out just for him / so you leave no trace behind : like you don’t even exist / take the words for what they are / a dwindling, mercurial high: did I just leave a whole verse here? yes because it’s one of the greatest verses of all time! this girl can Set A Scene. the imagery of the narrator putting all this effort into looking and smelling nice only for her mans to be like “babe would you mind not wearing such a distinctive scent? we’re trying to keep this on the DL remember?” the question that implicitly hangs in there: if you have to pretend your relationship doesn’t exist, does it really at all? and that last line omg...what hits so hard about this is that she is telling herself that the high is mercurial: changing and won’t last, but you can tell she doesn’t even really believe herself.

spinning like a girl in a brand new dress / we had this big wide city all to ourselves / we blocked the noise with the sound of “I need you” / and for the first time I had something to lose / and I guess we fell apart in the usual way / and the story’s got dust on every page / but sometimes I wonder how you think about it now / and I see your face in every crowd: this is the greatest verse of all time and let’s talk about why. that first line makes you FEEL how carefree she was, the novelty of a new relationship. how the city could have felt lonely or scary but when they had each other all of that faded. the way she glosses over how they fell apart because she wants to appreciate what they had, not be sad about the ending. “but sometimes I wonder how you think about it now” is so simple but lives rent free in my head because I think it’s one of the lines which most defines Taylor’s discography: it all comes down to wanting to be Remembered and wondering if they remember it too. “and I see your face in every crowd” gets to me because it is so very human to feel that mix of excitement and dread when you think you see someone you used to love, and then feel that sense of relief and disappointment when it’s not them.

if you and I are a story / that never gets told / if what you are is a daydream / I never get to hold / at least you’ll know / you’re beautiful: I talk about this lyric a lot because it has impacted me a lot. young taylor was all I LOVE YOU and I WANT YOU and IF I CAN’T HAVE YOU I MIGHT AS WELL CRAWL IN A HOLE but this song is so mature. she’s saying that sometimes, someone’s beauty is enough. you don’t get to have every single one of your daydreams come true. but sometimes, you can be grateful someone exists even if it’s not with you.

lights flash and we’ll run for the fences / let them say what they want / we won’t hear it / loose lips sink ships all the damn time / not this time / just grab my hand and don’t ever drop it: my favorite thing about this insanely good song is the bravado. she’s so confident that they can go unseen only for the recorder clicks to tell you just how wrong she was. but I love the bravery in the mean time: we can ignore the gossip and we can run away from them because when it’s you and me...nothing else matters. also the way the lights flashing is a sign of danger when in the first song on the album it’s a sign of what she loves about the city. I think this also ties into wildest dreams when they drive away from the crowds and have some Private Time: she started to realize that while the city was the place of her dreams in some ways, it wasn’t sustainable for a relationship because she literally couldn’t go outside without being papped.

and you got your share of secrets and I’m tired of being last to know / and now you’re asking me to listen cause it’s worked each time before: this gets me because she’s trying to take a hard line in this song but what it comes down to is that the reason they think they can treat her like that is because she’s let them before. this is a very hard lesson to learn: you ask yourself why would they think I’d forgive them??? only to realize...oh it’s because I have a million times before. yes, what they did was wrong, but you have to protect yourself so they don’t do it again.

and I can still see it all in my mind / all of you, all of me intertwined / I once believed love would be black and white / but it’s golden / and I can still see it all in my head / back and forth from New York sneaking in your bed / I once believed love would be burning red / but it’s golden, like daylight: did I cry the first time I heard this because I thought she said she was hating me, used inflashbacksandechoes? no ♥️ anyway this sums up the whole album. you can see how taylor thought love would be black and white/simple before in her daydreams: in mine, he chases her into the street and tells her he’ll never abandon her, and in stay stay stay, he agrees to stay but they never really talk about it. but in Cornelia Street, he doesn’t just chase after her, he calls her and explains his actual feelings and then they have a real conversation on the roof, and in afterglow, she gives a very sincere apology. you see how an intense passion (cruel summer) turned into a mature relationship (false god). my only problem with this bridge is that I worry that I’ll spend the rest of my life chasing after the high I felt when I first heard her reference red

she looks at life like it’s a party and she’s on the list / she looks at me like I’m a trend and she’s so over it / I think her ever present frown is a little troubling / and she thinks I’m psycho cause I like to rhyme her name with things / but sophistication isn’t what you wear or who you know / or pushing people down to get you where you wanna go / they didn’t teach you that in prep school so it’s up to me / but no amount of vintage dresses gives you dignity: no one else is willing to say it so I will: this is one of the best written songs on her first three albums. so many lyrics use great songwriting techniques and every lyric is sharp and pointed. the use of “look” twice in two different ways, how she shows what they think of each other, how taylor apparently went around like “hey Flamilla Snell how’s it going?”, the use of prep school to both make fun of her for being a snob and bring in what Taylor is teaching her.

I could go on forever but I’ll leave it here! Thanks again for your kindness and reading my posts 🥺🥺🥺🥺

#ask #save

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theeverlastingshade · 7 years ago

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Favorite Albums of 2017

I can’t help but marvel at the progression of these intro paragraphs preceding my 10 favorite albums of each year. Each year has seemed to be bleaker than the last since I started this blog. This year like any other in recent memory was characterized by wide-spread moral bankruptcy and a pervasive atmosphere of failing self-accountability and disregard for even the most basic tenets of human decency, and that doesn’t even factor in the Trump presidency. Thankfully there was also still plenty of impressive music this year, and perhaps more so than any year in recent memory, as obvious as it may seem for anyone that doesn’t really pay attention to this kind of thing, 2017 was dominated by young, talented individuals that really came into their own artistically this year. Tyler, The Creator, King Krule, Moses Sumney, (Sandy) Alex G, Arca, Oso Oso, Julien Baker, Perfume Genius, Kendrick Lamar, Zola Jesus, Sampha, SZA, Thundercat, Jay Som and many others released if not undeniable career highs, then at least records that are on par with anything else that they’ve ever released. There was truly something for everyone this year, as well as plenty of LPs that pushed the limitations of the form, challenging what an album can still be. Without further ado, here are my favorite albums of 2017.

10. World Eater- Blanck Mass

I never thought I’d be talking about a solo record from either member of Fuck Buttons within the same breath as any of their proper albums, but World Eater is far from being just another Blanck Mass record. With World Eater John Powers has created a lean, brutal electronic record that perhaps better straddles the juxtaposition between noise and melody more impressively than anything that Fuck Buttons have done to date. World Eater opens to churning static and the breezy music box of “John Doe’s Carnival of Error”, and glides along unassumingly for a few minutes until double time kick drums and manipulated vocal loops collide into the mix. From there the urgency jumps from 0 to 100 as we barrel into the industrial collision course “Rhesus Negative”. World Eater plays much like this throughout the course of its seven tracks, with a few moments of tranquil relief scattered throughout that act as brief respites from the ensuing chaos. The balance between these dynamics is constantly in flux, and part of what really thrills about World Eater is that it feels as if one side of this duality could give way to the other within any given moment.

World Eater has the most extensive range of any Blanck Mass album to date, and it pushes both ends of his sound to their logical extremes. Whereas “Rhesus Negative” reaches for the jugular, “Please” feels more reminiscent of a plea for armistice. The latter fuses manipulated vocal samples, bird chirps, woodwind synths, and woodblock percussion into an uplifting march, and is one of the few songs on World Eater that doesn’t completely divulge into chaos. While the tone almost always suggests despair, “Hive Mind”, the album’s stunning conclusion and high-water mark, serves to remind us that things will not always be this bleak. “Hive-Mind” builds to a frenzied coda over the course of 8.5 minutes, and the melody towards the end has a euphoric quality that seems to approximate the feeling of hope against unreasonable odds. Of course this is all speculative given that the album is instrumental, but the music that Powers has made thus far has yet to suggest he’s one for blinding nihilism. He’s responded accordingly to the times that we’re living in, but for all the menace and terror that World Eater is dripping with, he never once outright rejects the possibility that things won’t improve.

Essentials: “Hive-Mind”, “Rhesus Negative”, “Silent Treatment”

9. Nothing Feels Natural- Priests

While Priests have been active for the past half decade, they couldn’t have chosen a more fitting moment to release their debut album. Released towards the end of January, Nothing Feels Natural was a too good to be true spike of adrenaline fixated on the power of resilience. The band’s music has always emphasized the dismantling of oppressive power structures, but the songs that compose Nothing Feels Natural are richer and more nuanced than anything they’ve done up to this point without sacrificing an ounce of their pointed fury. “Pink White House” presents the band at their most outright menacing; a perfect anthem of disillusionment that finds Greer manically sneering at the façade of choice that we’re made to believe we have within binary systems “A puppet show in which you’re made to feel like you participate/Sign a letter, throw your shoe, vote for numbers 1 of 2”. “Nicki” takes shots at opportunist leeches “You hinge your success on that which you might bleed from me” and thrusts their ambitions in the face of the patriarchy “Got more appetite than a bear or a forest full of mouths to feed/So save your paltry dowry/I’m gonna buy you before you buy me”. On “No Big Bang” the band ponder the accumulated costs of progress, while on “Puff” they outwardly dismiss accerlationism as an acceptable countermeasure for dismantling an inherently broken system.

While remaining true to their sound Priests still manage to take plenty of interesting sonic risks, and Nothing Feels Natural succeeds in large part because of it. “JJ” fuses surf rock riffs with jittery piano chords and a galloping tom rhythm as Katie Alice Greer tears into an ex and fantasizes about being a cowboy since Red’s were her cigarette of choice. The opening song, “Appropriate”, juggles punk, noise, and jazz without losing an ounce of the momentum. Closing track “Suck” finds the band trying their hand at tense new-wave, while “Puff” combines shards of distortion with supremely funky basslines and presents Greer at her most animated. The title track balances scorched post-punk and crusty surf rock as Greer delivers a few definitive bleak sentiments “But to people in sanctuaries all I can say is/You will not, you will not be saved” amidst a sea of ambiguous imagery. They’ve never stretched themselves to the extent that they do on Nothing Feels Natural, and we’re all the better for their relentless experimentation. Nothing Feels Natural is far more than a mere call to arms; it’s a manifesto for how to live, and it’s through all the layers of seething contempt that a path towards solace can be traced.

Essentials: “JJ”, “Nothing Feels Natural”, “Pink White House”

8. Arca- Arca

For Arca’s third LP in four years he’s released the first one of his records that could legitimately shock those who’ve been onboard since Baron Libra. For the first time since the dream pop that he recorded while in his teens, Arca’s voice was front in center of his music. Following the progression from Xen and Mutant this could have seemed like a disastrous prospect, and yet it’s resulted in, if not his most accomplished work, certainly his most fearless and honest work to date. Here he’s pared down the mind-melting production that’s distinguished his work thus far in favor of sparser, less obtrusive soundscapes that better support his operatic delivery. Instead of trying to outdo the brilliant, otherworldly labyrinths on Mutant, he’s opted for something even more insular but far less abrasive this time around. The music throughout Arca is just as unsetting and unpredictable as anything he’s ever released, but what makes it the strangest release of his to date is how unbelievably human it sounds.

“Piel” sets the tone for the album as metallic strings and a trembling low-end approximate the sound of the walls closing in around you while Arca sings off shedding the skin from yesterday and cutting himself off from the mouth of honey. It’s eerie and unfamiliar in the way that only Arca is, but he’s showing far more restraint than he typically allows in his music. I can’t think of many musicians where the notion that more is less couldn’t be further from the truth than it is with Arca, but on his self-titled he’s achieved an impressive balance between allowing the music to take a backseat to his voice while still providing room for him to explore new sonic terrain. “Castration” is a throwback of sorts to the frenzied drum and bass onslaughts that he’s perfected on previous LPs, and it also manages to pack in a surprising amount of melody given the nature of the song. And on album closer “Child” he recedes back completely behind the boards once more to deliver the most tender song of his to date.

Arca primarily holds its own within Arca’s discography due to the fact that, despite working almost entirely within instrumental parameters up to this point, not only does he have a surprisingly sturdy, agile voice, but he manages to consistently utilize it in surprising, affecting ways. “Saunter” creeps forward apprehensively while providing one of his most gorgeous melodies to date and lies in wait for his full-throttled bellow to tear it apart from the seams. On “Desario” Arca’s at his most shrewdly populist as he softly makes masochistic pleas and assures us that there’s an abyss inside him, while on the thunderous “Reverie” he takes on a commanding, cathartic tone as he dares a former lover to try and love him once more. There’s an unflinching level of vulnerability coursing throughout Arca that’s always existed in his music but had never previously been articulated so explicitly despite how cryptic the lyrics to these songs still are. With his self-titled LP Arca has managed to vastly expand the parameters of his artistry without having to simplify what he excels so peerlessly at. Here’s to Arca the pop star.

Essentials: “Piel”, “Castration”, “Saunter”

7. Always Foreign- The World is a Beautiful Place & I Am No Longer Afraid to Die

Harmlessness is the kind of album that seemed guaranteed to posit a follow-up as inherently disappointing. It’s still an untouchable document of relentless ambition that continues to sound so refreshing in a climate where the vast majority of bands hardly seem capable of or interested in challenging themselves or their audience. On Always Foreign, the spirit of optimism that has propelled the vast majority of their music to date has started to dampen. It’s an album that finds the band thoroughly dissatisfied with the status quo and baring their fangs at a few different targets (primarily Donald Trump and former guitarist Nicole Shanholtzer) without once coming off as outright petty or bitter. It’s easily their most mature release to date, and an album that finds them comfortably settling into their status as elder statesmen of emo’s fourth wave without slipping into complacency.

While Always Foreign lacks both the immediacy and the adventurous spirit of Harmlessness, the band has still managed to push their sound forward in a number of different directions that sound both natural and fresh. Both “Dillion and Her Son” and “The Future” explore spiky pop-punk, and find the band at their most concise and accessible. “Fuzz Minor” begins groggily with simmering post-rock and switches on a dime through a few break-neck transitions before firmly landing on charred emo. “Gram” channels deceptively funky baroque pop and “Infinite Steve” calls back to the wistful post-rock that helped distinguish their debut Whenever, If Ever. On Always Foreign the band never lose sight of who they are, and where they came from, but they’re hardly beholden to the past. They’ve managed to tastefully push their sound forward and expand their wheelhouse with the most confident and assured songs of their career thus far.

As is the case with each of their other albums, Always Foreign contains a handful of their best songs to date, and finds the band reaching heights unparalleled in contemporary rock. “Marine Tigers” takes stock of the racism and xenophobia that David Bello’s father experienced growing up in New York throughout the 40s, and chillingly addresses how prevalent it remains today, in the process penning the album’s thesis statement “Making money is a horrible and rotten institution”. They reach one of their characteristically blistering codas propelled by a storm of brass and strings, but instead of catharsis the song practically disintegrates at the seams before tumbling into “Fuzz Minor”. “For Robin” is perhaps the most devastating song that the band has penned to date. Over delicate acoustic plucking Bello ponders how we’re able to grieve so openly for celebrities that we admire, but have no actual relationship with, while we struggle so profoundly to naturally process the deaths of those who we couldn’t be any closer to.

The album’s crowning achievement, and one of the most powerful songs that I’ve ever ever heard, however, belongs to “Faker”. “Faker” is a perfect song that finds the band at the height of their powers, disillusioned beyond belief, and channeling their collective frustration squarely at Donald Trump. It’s a frank, no-holds barred depiction of life under his administration, positing a procession of horrifying, but perfectly plausible scenarios that could befall the United States while he’s in office. No other song or album in 2017 has even come close to tapping into the grim reality that we face with him as president as “Faker”. It’s the kind of song that in nearly anyone else’s hands could have easily come off too on the nose, too cynical, or too ham-fisted, if not all three at once. But this is the kind of thing that’s been in the band’s wheelhouse since the beginning, and their execution astounds. As awful as the world may seem throughout the course of Always Foreign, the band continue to find strength and solace in one another. The World is a Beautiful Place & I Am No Longer Afraid to Die may have shed some of their optimism in the time between Harmlessness and Always Foreign, but their belief in the power of community as a balm for assuaging the horrors of daily existence remains as firm as it’s ever been.

Essentials: “Faker”, “For Robin”, “Marine Tigers”

6. A Deeper Understanding- The War on Drugs

Following up a breakthrough album as ambitious and well-executed as Lost in the Dream must have been a daunting prospect, but you’d hardly know it from the sound of their even better fourth LP A Deeper Understanding. Here is where The War on Drugs have solidified their status as rock auteurs, widening the scope of their shoegaze-inflected, psychedelic heartland rock with elements of krautrock and synth pop. And while A Deeper Understanding is handedly the most accessible LP in their discography, it comes at no cost of the perfectionist sensibilities of bandleader Adam Granduciel. Much in the way that records like Currents and Swing Lo Magellan respectively found Kevin Parker and David Longstreth indulging their populist impulses more thoroughly than ever before while simultaneously writing some of their most sophisticated arrangements to date, A Deeper Understanding has only benefitted from Granduciel’s improvement on the immediacy of songcraft.

As far as lyrics as concerned, just like with previous albums from The War on Drugs the emphasis isn’t on specificity, but on establishing mood, and here they continue to exist among the great purveyors of atmosphere in contemporary music. “Holding On” offers little more than the likelihood that it was written about trying to move on following a breakup “No I’m headed down a different road, yeah/Can we walk it side by side?/Is an old memory just another way of saving goodbye?”, but that sense of untamable longing is conjured through the scope of their arrangements with far more justice than mere words could articulate. Lead single “Thinking of a Place” finds Granduciel relying on the light of the moon to guide him to through the darkness and towards a place of love, and the expanse of isolation that Granduciel feels himself rooted in is conveyed in spades. That kind of slight vagueness extend itself to the album as a whole, which only reinforces its dreamlike quality. You don’t have any real idea of where you’re going, you just know that you need to press onward, and perhaps if you’re lucky you’ll be able to retain pieces of your journey after the fact.

While The War on Drugs have obvious, undeniable reference points (Springsteen, Dylan, Petty, etc), their take on widescreen heartland rock incorporates far more than such comparisons would suggest. Their music is grander, and denser, each song incorporating dozens of instruments and overdubs that would come off over-baked and clunky in anyone but Granduciel’s hands. The drums draw far more from the nimble strutting of Krautrock than it does from any mainstream American rock throughout the 80s, and the massive array of synthesizers hew much closer to pure synth-pop than any electronica-dabbling Americana that existed within that time frame. Their music continues to retain elements of psychedelia and shoegaze on top of this, further distinguishing them from obvious reference points and their contemporaries alike. While The War on Drugs remain reminiscent of several legacy bands, there’s still nobody that sounds like them, far more so in 2017 than in 2014.

Where The War on Drugs continue to noticeably excel are in their arrangements. Lost in the Dream was were The War on Drugs truly locked into their sound, and on A Deeper Understanding the band are perfecting it. The songs on A Deeper Understanding are simply massive, and necessitate a quality pair of headphones or speakers more so than everything else that I’ve heard this year. Granduciel has grown into one of the most meticulous producers currently working, and the level of detail pouring out of each of these songs is just ridiculous. Whether it’s the interlocked electric/acoustic guitar layering in “Pain”, the thick motorik rhythms of “Nothing to Find”, or the sweeping synthesizer sprawl of “Thinking of a Place”, these songs contain a level of craftsmanship that make a strong case for nothing but ambition for ambition’s sake. The further that Granduciel seems to delve inward, the richer and more engrossing his music becomes, and A Deeper Understanding is the band’s most compelling chapter to date, one that further cements Granduciel’s status as one of the most consistently rewarding musicians currently recording.

Essentials: “Nothing to Find”, “Strangest Thing”, “Thinking of a Place”

5. Crack-Up- Fleet Foxes

The entire landscape of music had seismically shifted throughout the gap between Crack-Up, and the previous Fleet Foxes LP, Helplessness Blues. From trends, to distribution models, to methods of consumption, Fleet Foxes were entering an entirely different playing field in 2017 than the one that existed in 2011. Thankfully, the music suggested that this didn’t seem to faze the band too much, and they returned this year with their most complex and compelling LP to date. Put simply, Crack-Up is an enormous folk record. Exquisitely arranged and produced, it’s their most gorgeous record as well as their most ambitious, a record adorned in maximalist string and horn arrangements, sublime textures, and those heavenly multi-part harmonies that have been the band’s calling card since their Sun Giant EP. While this is easily the album of theirs most guaranteed to shun casual listeners and alienate many who have been onboard primarily because of the melodic mastery exuded on their self-titled, it’s also much bolder, assured, and dynamic than anything most could have reasonable assumed this band was capable of and/or interested in making. What the band has sacrificed in immediacy they’ve gained several times over in longevity.

After just a minute into “I’m All That I Need / Arroyo Seco / Thumbprint Scar” it becomes clear that this is a very different kind of Fleet Foxes record. The band has always contained at least five members, each of which are multi-instrumentalists, but Crack-Up is the first album to completely take advantage of the breadth of their instrumental range. I’m All That I Need” initially lulls you into a false sense of security before an avalanche of acoustic guitars storms the mix. From there we’re taken through several different sections that pile on keys, bass, mellotron, violin, and clarinets as Robin Pecknold begins to take stock of his isolation. The song ends with a snippet of “White Winter Hymnal” being covered by a high school choir low in the mix, emphasizing how the band couldn’t be further removed from the wide-eyed, youthful disposition they fully exhibited just a decade prior. It rings like a sober acknowledgement of the passage of time, and the realities reckoned with throughout the years since. Much of the record finds Pecknold growing disillusioned with those around him and society at large while seeming to harbor crippling feelings of self-doubt and indulging in the impulse to isolate himself. It’s the coldest record they’ve made yet, but due to their refusal to give into expectations or frame feelings in a more agreeable light, it’s also their most honest work to date.

With an album this dense and complex it’s easy to dismiss much of it as an exercise in indulgence, but the album succeeds on a number of fronts. Both “If You Need to, Keep Time on Me” and “Kept Woman” pair down the instrumental extravagance in favor of sparse acoustic guitar/piano compositions, acting as breathers that emphasis the band’s rich harmonies in-between their baroque walls of noise; the former a mediation on acting within allocated boundaries in a relationship with a close friend and artistic collaborator while the latter is a longing ballad that seeks reconciliation with a figure named Anna. “On Another Ocean (January / June)” slowly builds from little more than scattered handclaps, cello, and piano beneath Pecknold’s understated croon before the song settles into a groove that piles on guitars, harpsichord, and mellotron with Pecknold delivering one of the strongest melodies that he’s ever written. The pacing throughout Crack-Up is superb, and they’ve achieved a remarkable balance between doing justice to the band’s inherent melodic sensibilities while remaining willing to challenge themselves.

This is hardly the kind of album that I ever would have expected Fleet Foxes to make, but it sounds like a perfectly natural extension of their sound. It feels firmly removed, and out of step with the current landscape of music in all of the best ways possible. Everything that made Fleet Foxes a great band since the beginning is completely amplified here, and each risk they take they manage to pull off completely. Whether it’s the nearly 9 minute, 3 movement epic prog-folk lead single “Third of May / Odaigahara” or the ambient-leaning psych folk of “Cassius” or the anthemic baroque stampede of “Mearcstapa”, the songs on Crack-Up are the band’s finest to date because, despite what the overarching tone would suggest otherwise, sonically this sounds like a band falling in love with the act of creating all over again. Before 2017 a legitimately underrated Fleet Foxes album seemed inconceivable to me, but here we are. While it took a few albums and almost a decade, Fleet Foxes have released their masterpiece, having finally carved out a lane entirely unto themselves.

Essentials: “On Another Ocean (January / June)”, “Third of May / Odaigahara“, “Mearcstapa”

4. Rocket- (Sandy) Alex G

After several stellar bandcamp releases (and one official LP for Domino under his belt already) (Sandy) Alex G has returned this year with Rocket, his proper breakout LP. Much like Car Seat Headrest with Matador, Alex G has been able to turn a fairly sizable following on bandcamp into a record deal with a major indie. His first commercial release, Beach Music, was solid but a little uneven and rough around the edges, and ultimately failed to completely distill everything that makes him such a compelling artist. Rocket, on the other hand, is an ambitious, multi-faceted record that, while his most accessible, is also just his best period. There’s a staggering level of improvement in nearly aspect of his artistry on Rocket. His songwriting has never been sharper, while the arranging and production are miles apart from even what he was doing on Beach Music. He’s still writing and recording almost entirely himself, and for the most part he’s working within the same parameters, but he’s never taken so many sonic risks on any previous LP, and each of them pay off handsomely. Rocket is the sound of one of the most compelling songwriters of the last handful of years completely coming into his own as a musician, with his fearlessness only matched by his curiosity.

This is still singer-songwriter indie rock through and through, but there’s far more happening throughout Rocket than those kinds of parameters initially suggest. The album as a whole is far more twangy than your typical Alex G affair, with songs like “Poison Root” and “Rocket” that keep jangly acoustics high in the mix. “Bobby” is the closest that Alex has ever dipped into full-blown country, and incorporates violin and gorgeous harmonies courtesy of Emily Yacina. “Witch” explores droning psych pop while on “Brick” he opts for blood-curdling noise the likes of which could not be any further removed from everything else found here. That being said, “Brick” still works as an immensely effective segue from the frenzied free jazz plucking of “Horse” to the auto-tune drenched r&b ballad “Sportstar”. While some may find Rocket an incoherent and unfocused listen, Alex manages to not only pull off these stylistic leaps steadily and seamlessly, but he also displays a vast breadth of range previously unexplored this fully in his music up to this point. Nothing on Rocket feels forced or out of place, but it all feels like a perfectly natural extension of Alex G’s resourcefulness.

It can be easy to read too much into the lyrics of Rocket as Alex has always been prone to keeping listeners at arm’s length, and he continues to abstain from transparency throughout. “Proud” begins simply enough with proclamations of admiration “Wanna be a star like you/Wanna make something that’s true” before he flips the intention on its head a few verses later “I wanna be fake like you/Walk around with rocks in my shoes” and the tone never provides a straight answer. “Bobby” finds an unreliable narrator eager to destroy aspects of himself, both those he loves as well as those that disgust him, in order to salvage a crumbling relationship “I’d burn them for you/If you want me to” but it’s entirely unclear if Alex plays a role in this story or not. “Judge” finds someone presumably ruing having taken someone once extremely close whose no longer in his life for granted “That day meant nothing to me/A hiccup in my memory/This life will leave you hungry/I am completely guilty” while “Guilty” ends Rocket on a particularly morose note “Have you buried all the evidence of/What you used to be?/Has the question/Become darker than the answer?/Baby, I’ve got news”, brilliantly juxtaposing some of his bleakest lyrics to date over warm organ chords, maracas, and cool saxophone lines. Each song is grounded in reality but contains subtle surreal twists that leave much of the intention up to interpretation. This reluctance to oversimplify or dispense information first and foremost ensures that Rocket is consistently engaging and rewards multiple listens.

While easily his most accomplished album to date, the cohesiveness and range of Rocket were hardly unprecedented. He’s been perfecting his craft for years through a handful of bandcamp releases recorded by himself in his bedroom. While Rocket is his most collaborative LP to date, it still manages to not only completely capture the unconventional essence of his artistry, but amplify it. Taken as a whole, Rocket constitutes the most dynamic and confident songs of his brief but prolific career, and suggest that far less is off the table moving forward than one might have reasonably assumed from hearing nothing more than a handful of pre-Rocket Alex G songs. He’s quickly and unassumingly become one of the most consistently compelling storytellers in music today, and regardless of the shape his tales continue to take they’re certain to be engaging. In an increasingly crowded realm of singer-songwriters across a multitude of genres Alex G stands far from the pack through sheer ingenuity alone. With any luck his adventurous spirit will continue to spoil us for years to come.

Essentials: “Proud”, “Bobby ft. Emily Yacina”, “Judge”

3. Aromanticism- Moses Sumney

After years of hype from the likes of Solange and Chris Taylor among many others despite having not recorded anything until last year’s understated and gorgeous Lamentations EP, Moses Sumney delivered a debut that capitalized on the potential that his live show and songs like “Lonely World” suggested. Aromanticism is a sublimely meditative record that finds Moses pondering how best to live a life without romantic love. Most of the compositions are fairly minimal, with little more than guitar, synths, and Sumney’s tremendously expressive falsetto. On the whole his songs achieve a serenity through his terrific use of space, and it’s easy to get lulled into the ambience of his compositions without realizing how impressive the arrangements actually are. Like many of the musicians on this list, Sumney has grown staggeringly as an artist since his last release. From songwriting to singing, composition, arranging, and production, Aromanticism is a remarkable leap forward that is at times loud, quiet, challenging, accessible, but it’s never anything less than bold and entirely firm in his convictions. It’s the rare debut that, not only completely lives up to all hype surrounding it, but more importantly suggests a plethora of directions that Sumney could continue to take his singular soul music.

Where Aromanticism truly impresses is in Sumney’s ability to convey so much while seeming to do so little. With the exception of the latter half of the album’s centerpiece, “Lonely World”, the songs on Aromanticism are truly skeletal in their construction. The pervading atmosphere is one of smoky ambience, with little more to really latch onto aside from Sumney’s consistently engaging vocals and murky guitar strums, along with the occasional brass flourish, string sweep, or ambient synth tone to help sketch out the compositions. Everything is given plenty of room to breathe and develop organically, and this spartan-like sparsity helps allow details like the extended jazz coda tacked onto the end of “Quarrel” feel like natural and welcome embellishments instead of pure indulgence. “Don’t Bother Calling” is stripped to a chugging bassline, occasional strings, and Sumney’s tender croon. His sparse harmonies cast an eerie shadow over the mix as he gentle acknowledges reservations about a relationship “I don’t know what we are/But all I know is I can’t go away with you with half a heart”. The production throughout seamlessly compliments the richness of his voice, and while he’s proved more prone to deliver his vocals with grace and precision over sheer spectacle, there are moments like the closing track “Self-Hape Tape” where he completely lets loose, gliding up and down octaves with reckless abandon above skittering guitar plucks and a rumbling low-end. There’s just enough on each song to help flesh out his deeply affecting vocal performances, and Aromanticism as a whole is all the better for his tremendous sense of restraint.

Aromanticism is a concept record centered around learning to live with the absence of romantic love. The songs on Aromanticism never take on a chiding or condescending tone; they simply challenge some preconceived notion about romance until Sumney’s gaze veers towards some other element to fixate on. They draw their power from Sumney’s heartfelt, engaging inquiries into the very nature of our psychological impulse to co-habitat. “Plastic” draws from the Greek myth of Icarus as he compares his emotional state to the malleability and deception inherent in plastic “My wings are made up/And so am I”. “Quarrel” explores the nature of romantic love as a political device used as a further extension of control over people. Here he breaks down the difficulty of being in relationship with someone who won’t recognize the legitimacy of their problems “With you, half the battle/Is proving we’re at war/I’d give my life just for the privilege to ignore” before reflecting that due to the inherently discriminatory nature of the world there can never be an equal relationship since someone will always be “othered” by society more so, even if marginally, than the other person “We cannot by lovers/Long as I’m the other”. On “Indulge Me” Sumney seems to find solace in silence, having grown comfortable with all his old lovers moving on “I don’t trouble nobody/Nobody troubles my body after/All my old others have found lovers”.

While there isn’t a single song here that does anything less than astound (interludes and all), it isn’t until “Doomed” that everything finally clicks into place. The first song that Moses Sumney released for Aromanticism, while perhaps as unorthodox as singles come, is the best song that he’s ever released and easily one of the best songs released all year. It’s an ambient-soul lucid dream that finds Moses at a croon-whisper over smoldering synth tones as he questions whether it’s even possible for him to live a meaningful life if romantic love perpetually eludes him. It moves along at a crawl, but by the time we reach the coda his delivery conveys nothing short of pure devastation. There are very few musicians who can, or even care to summon the courage to ask these kinds of questions in the first place, and although by the time that “Self-Help Tape” concludes we don’t seem any closer to answering the questions that Sumney posits throughout Aromanticsm, it feels like a reward in itself to hear someone so talented and thoughtful grapple with these dilemmas. There wasn't another debut released in 2017 that was as singular, full-formed, multi-faceted, and engaging from start to finish as Aromanticism. So far, Sumney has been asking all the right questions, and making all the right moves.

Essentials: “Doomed”, “Lonely World”, “Don’t Bother Calling”

2. The Ooz- King Krule

Archy Marshall’s return to form as King Krule is a remarkably cohesive voyage into the dark recesses of his mind. Following the muted lo-fi trip-hop that defined his last LP, 2015’s A New Place 2 Drown, The Ooz is far more in line with the more sonically adventurous music that he records under his King Krule moniker. 6 Feet Beneath the Moon still holds up as a great record, but it does sound somewhat reserved in retrospect, like Marshall was slightly hesitant to completely push against the boundaries of his artistry. The Ooz is the first album that Archy Marshall has made that completely lives up to the full scope of his talents. It’s a more fully-realized vision of the bleak dystopia he’s been depicting since he first started recording while fully incorporating sonic elements from everything that he’s done up to this point. He’s achieved a sound that incorporates indie rock, post-punk, punk-jazz, and trip-hop, and there’s nobody that sounds anything even remotely like him. His distinct baritone warble is front and center, but he’s never sounded as dynamic as vocalist, shrieking manically with as much ease as seamlessly transitioning into a tender croon. The Ooz is long and can be a fairly challenging listen at times, but the sonic variation, stellar songwriting, and rich production ensure that it’s a consistently rewarding listen. Everything that Archy Marhsall has released up to to his point has been impressive, but The Ooz is a particularly remarkable achievement that owns Marshall’s singular talents, existing entirely in a class of its own.

The sound that Marshall cultivates throughout The Ooz is more impressive than anything he’s attempted on previous records. Opening cut “Biscuit Town” sets the tone perfectly as Krule’s weary rasp lays waste to a slithering tom/snare rhythm and bleary organ chords while he begins to make note of his desolate surroundings “I seem to sink lower/gazing in the rays of the solar”. From there we begin to descend further through the gunk. “The Locomotive” continues what is handedly the strongest four song punch on a 2017 LP as Krule��s forlorn wail cuts through the fog alongside a whistle aimlessly trailing off into the void. By the time we reach the first interlude, “Bermondsey Bosom (Left)”, it becomes immensely clear that Krule has made his riskiest and most ambitious LP to date. Here he’s managed to tastefully fuse the instrumental trip-hop he explored on A New Place 2 Drown with the punk-jazz blues rock that he’s been recoding under King Krule from the start without falling prey to awkward growing pains. The Ooz is the most immersive record I’ve listened to all year, and masterfully sustains the distinct atmosphere throughout the course of its runtime despite such immense variation. While certainly on the long side, The Ooz avoids devolving into a joyless slog through his deft sense of pacing. There are a few instrumental interludes scattered throughout that help round things out in-between the more substantive cuts, and nothing overstays its welcome.

There’s an immense diversity present throughout The Ooz, both sonically and compositionally. The first two singles, “Czech One” and “Dum Surfer”, are not only two of his most impressive songs to date, but they could hardly be more different from one another while still completely adhering to the album’s sensibilities. The former is hushed and solemn with Krule gazing through an airplane window recounting life on the road over somber piano chords and unimposing snare taps. The latter trades the nuance of the former for something far more brash. “Dum Surfer” barrels forward courtesy of a propulsive low-end, thick saxophones, and jittery snares as Krule snarls about vomiting on pavement slabs and getting into car crashes while riding in a cab. While these two songs exist within the same sonic parameters, they suggest a scope of vast range that Krule more than lives up to throughout The Ooz. The chugging sleigh bells and theremin wails that define “Slush Puppy” are miles away from the reverb-drenched, jangly lounge blues that Krule exhibits on “A Slide In (New Drugs)”, but at no point could you ever mistake either song as the work of any other musician. King Krule continues to thrill as a producer, and throughout The Ooz he demonstrates an impeccable use of texture that elevate each of these compositions beyond what they could have been in the hands of most other producers. Whether it’s the storm of brass and saloon piano chords that dance in tandem throughout “Cadet Limbo” or the slippery, sinister basslines that aggressively creep forward throughout “Vidual”, Krule consistently manages to keep things interesting.

As is the case with everything that Archy Marshall has released up to this point, The Ooz is an unrelentingly bleak record. “I wish I was people” Krule pointedly warbles on “The Locomotive”, providing one of the album’s few conceivable thesis statements, matched only by “I don’t trust anyone/Only get alone with some” off of “Vidual”. Krule’s commitment to unwavering solitude has only seemed to increase with each release of his, and here his isolation has reached a new peak. “In soft bleeding, we will unite/We ooz two souls, pastel blues/Heightened touch from losing sight/Swimming through the blue lagoon” he offers up on the title track, and it seems to convey an inability to move on after having lost someone that meant the world to him. For all the gruffness that he’s prone to front, vulnerability has always been key to his work, and here he comes closer than ever to exposing the tender seams that compose his aloof temperament. As is to be expected, he provides no legitimate closure for his torment, but does offer a few thoughts on how he may find solace moving forward on “La Lune”. “They found reasons to try/Clone the sea at night/Brave waves bathe the eye/Well I crave ways to dry” he intones solemnly, seemingly vowing not to fixate on trying to find love. Whether that holds true is yet to be seen, but what’s certain is that our generation’s self-proclaimed greatest poet has delivered his as-of-now opus; a sprawling teatise on how to navigate such a horrific, unredeemable world.

Essentials: “The Ooz”, “Dum Surfer”, “Czech One”

1. Flower Boy- Tyler, The Creator

I haven’t followed artistic growth across any medium within my lifetime as astounding as that of Tyler, the Creator’s. Since the release of his seminal mixtape, Bastard, it was clear that Tyler was an immensely talented individual with a singular perspective and an unparrallelled imagination, but it was hard to imagine how he would, or rather if he would be capable, of maturing gracefully as an artist when his sound was tethered so strongly to such juvenile impulses. With each release following Bastard Tyler began to shed this careless fronts, allowing his introspective inclinations to begin dominating the proceedings where off-hand quips about murder, snorting coke, and worshipping satan previously took precedent. Tyler’s fourth LP, Flower Boy, is by and large the most accomplished, cohesive, honest, and fully-realized release of his to date. By fusing the Neptunes indebted synth heavy hip-hop he’s been perfecting from the start with lush neo-soul, warm baroque jazz, and elements of psychedlelia, r&b, and pop he’s managed to land on a sound that evenly distills his passions into fluid, and unconventional, but undeniably sturdy structures. One get’s the feeling that he’s released the album that he’s always wanted to make having finally reached the height of his creative powers. By responding faithfully to his imagination alone, Tyler has made an album that bleeds with intimacy and identity, one that’s elevated far beyond the sum of its components.

In many ways Flower Boy is simply a massively refined take on what Tyler was trying to accomplish with Cherry Bomb. While Tyler was definitely on to something with the latter record, the execution was too volatile and scattered to really leave much of an impact beyond the cult of OF. Flower Boy retains the marriage between the melodic and chaotic that Tyler was reaching for on Cherry Bomb, but improves it on every font. On Cherry Bomb he had grown visibly disenfranchised with the art of rapping, and was hurdling towards growing pains with awkward vocal deliveries in place of traditional rapping akin to Kid Cudi’s unfortunate trajectory. His rapping throughout Flower Boy is the tightest and most concise of his entire career, with flow change-ups and various masterfully implemented inflections that help punctuate the tone of each song throughout. He’s still trying to distance himself as a rapper, and he actually sings on a few songs throughout Flower Boy. When he opts to sing he recognizes the limitations of his voice and operates accordingly, remaining well within his range and using other voices when necessary to bring his colorful compositions to life. There are 11 features on Flower Boy, and each guest is given plenty of room to provide their talents on instrumentals that perfectly complement their sensibilities. This is still Tyler’s album through and through, but never before has he demonstrated such an impressive utilization of an eclectic and well-balanced ensemble.

Production has always been Tyler’s primary draw, and Flower Boy is the most superbly produced record in a discography defined by eclectic, forward-thinking production. Consistently layered in a rich assortment of strings, brass, keys, and synths, Flower Boy is a dense orchestration of disparate sounds, but unlike Cherry Bomb it never actually suffers from Tyler’s maximalist sensibilities. “See You Again” is tender baroque r&b that finds Tyler harmonizing with Kali Uchis, penning the most genuine and thoughtful love song in a discography ripe with them. “I Ain’t Got Time” and “Who Dat Boy” mark returns to the chaotic, unhinged sensibilities that defined Bastard and Tyler’s debut Goblin. “Who Dat Boy” is the only song on the album where Tyler doesn’t seem to even remotely challenge himself or his audience, but it’s saved from pure caricature thanks to Tyler’s tight delivery, his sinister, trunk-rattling production, and a surprisingly solid A$ap Rocky verse. “I Ain’t Got Time” bangs in a more traditional sense, and proves that Tyler can still raise pure hell when so inclined. On “Droppin’ Seeds” Lil Wayne spits another late-career gem over understated cool jazz and on “Garden Shed” Tyler tries his hand at psychedelic r&b that finds him and Estelle harmonizing with one another before a thick wall of distortion signals the arrival of Tyler’s most heartfelt verse to date. Nothing here feels all that unprecedented if you’ve been following Tyler’s trajectory closely, but the execution here simply dwarves all past efforts of his.

Tyler has always provided fleeting glimpses of sincerity beyond the veil of irreverence on each release of his since Bastard, but on Flower Boy he exudes an unflinching level of transparency that shocks more than anything else about this album. From the opening cut, “Forward”, Tyler establishes the album’s earnest tone on a bed of lavish synths while providing a legitimate breakout moment for Rex Orange County. “Boredom” finds Tyler continuing to grapple with loneliness and contains the most impressive string arrangements that Tyler’s ever assembled, while “Glitter” has one of the best melodies he’s ever written and offers a glimpse of the potential pop album Tyler recently suggested would follow Flower Boy. “Pothole” initially scans as a stealth re-write of Wolf’s “Slater”, but fixates on the disappointment of being ignored by old friends while trying to help them achieve their goals and contains a bafflingly well-executed hook courtesy of Jaden Smith of all people while “November” showcases some of his tightest flows to date as he raps about a series of concerns regarding his fame, creativity, and relationships that ends with him leaving a voicemail to someone he’s fallen for, the voicemail being “Glitter”. The album’s most powerful moment, sonically and lyrically, arrives on “Garden Shed”. Speculated by many to be his official coming out of the closet “All my friends lost/They couldn’t read the signs/I didn’t want to talk and tell them my location/And they ain’t wanna walk” and despite never confirming whether that’s what it’s supposed to signify or not it’s still the most open that he’s ever allowed himself to be on record.

With Flower Boy Tyler has blossomed into the musician that his potential has always suggested was within range. The record’s second single, and perhaps his finest song to date, “911 / Mr. Lonely”, completely distills everything that makes Flower Boy such a compelling listen, and made it immediately apparent that we’re dealing with a markedly more assured and accomplished artist than the one who recorded Cherry Bomb. The first half is dreamy, soulful boom-bap with Tyler copping to intense feelings of loneliness despite the success that he’s had “I got a sold out show but it don’t matter cause you not front row”. On the second half he lets loose with his sharpest verse since “Rusty” over demonic trap that’s tonally in-line with his past work but constructed far more impressively. The additional vocals of Frank Ocean, Steve Lacy, and Anna of the North are utilized brilliantly, with Tyler wisely allocating plenty of space to his guests so that no one really dominates until “Mr. Lonely”, which in turn only further amplifies Tyler’s verses. His willingness to push all aspects of his artistry coupled with a heightened transparency and an increasingly collaborative approach have allowed Tyler to make the best project of his career, and the most consistently compelling 2017 album that I’ve had the pleasure of listening to.

Essentials: “911/Mr. Lonely” ft. Frank Ocean, Steve Lacy, & Anna of the North, “See You Again” ft. Kali Uchis, “Garden Shed” ft. Estelle

#Tyler The Creator #king krule #moses sumney #(Sandy) Alex G #Fleet Foxes #the war on drugs #The world is a beautiful place and I am no longer afraid to die #arca #priests #Blanck Mass

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angeltriestoblog · 5 years ago

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I Miss 5 Seconds of Summer???

A few days after 5 Seconds of Summer held their concert in the Philippines last 2016, I wrote a blog post with this exact same title then went on to elaborate that I missed the version of them that I fell in love with. I’ve unarchived it so anyone who bothers to read this has a salient starting point, but be warned: I seriously can’t make it through the entire thing without suffering from a chronic cringe attack—who ever told 16-year-old me that she could write?!

—

I have listened to 5SOS’ entire discography almost exclusively today. But my Spotify followers wouldn’t know. In an expert attempt to evade their judgment, I go on Private Mode so I can cry to their music in peace. I’ve also been watching a couple of their videos too. My favorite is this live performance of Ghost of You where Calum Hood does some immaculate vocal blending at the 1:26 mark. I have my watch history paused though so I don’t get bombarded with more recommendations and end up spiraling further down the hole.

It’s funny how I think that removing every trace of related activity on my corner of the Internet could also erase it from my own memory, render it as a mere figment of my imagination instead of a clear manifestation that I’m starting to like them again. And it might seem even funnier that I am convinced that people care! But then again, I did unstan them pretty publicly a few years back following a misogynistic interview they did for an issue of Rolling Stone, which also featured all four of them almost fully nude on the cover.

To this day, I continue to dissect the piece with one part of me thinking that I might have overreacted, having seen and read it for the first time when I was 14 and much more of a prude, and the other knowing that I did not. In one paragraph, Luke Hemmings admits that during the early years of the band, they took advantage of the amount of female attention they were at the center of. “They were wildest on their early tours, when they’d go to bars to mingle with fans after shows,” it read.

In another, Hood talks quite nonchalantly about his infamous dick pic that made its rounds on the Internet the year before, and how it surprisingly gave the band a lot of publicity. “Now I’m just working on the sex tape,” he jokes. “I’ll call Pamela up, like, ‘Hey, it’s been a while. We really need to hype this band up!’”

Having risen to fame as the opening act of the clean-cut British-Irish group One Direction, 5SOS was immediately touted as a boyband—next in line to 1D’s throne, or competing with them for the crown, depends on which magazine you read. Though this exposure granted them a huge teenage fanbase (myself included), they hated the label that came with it. They constantly asserted that they played their own instruments and wrote their own songs, and behaved in a way that well-curated, expertly marketed groups would not: carefree, loud, playfully and forgivably naughty. No one would believe them though. People would say it’s the curse of being conventionally attractive in the music industry. You were almost always expected to be a popstar, a commodity that catered to the masses. But they tried anyway: maybe a lip ring and a couple of tattoos would do the trick, sprinkle some curse words here and there in interviews, get caught smoking or drinking.

That interview was their final act: their big-time effort to break away and hopefully land a spot amongst the rock bands they looked up to and wanted so desperately to impress. Even if it meant objectifying, mocking, and taking advantage of the girls who propelled them to stardom in the first place. Simply put, that interview was them desperately trying to get rid of fans like me. And so, I obliged.

—

Now that I’ve been staying at home for almost three months straight, I have revisited a lot of old favorites: poorly written fan fiction I used to eat up in my early teenage years, full seasons of Nickelodeon TV shows (only the good ones) downloaded off sketchy places on the Internet, my childhood journals filled with my loopy handwriting and family of stick figures. I know I’m not alone in this pursuit: it seems like we’re all holding on to remnants of our past to remind us that we have experienced better days, and they will surely come again soon.

I felt like it was inevitable I’d return to 5SOS because they had released their fourth full-length album during the first few weeks of the quarantine. Everywhere on social media, I was reminded that one single was out, and then another, and then another and I figured that it wouldn’t hurt to give it a try. After all, I did give Youngblood, their third record, a spin when it first came out as well. I thought their attempts at experimentation bordered on pretentiousness, and figured that if this was the musical direction they wanted to take, I’d surely hate every succeeding record as well.

But the problem was I really liked it. Although it wasn’t a no-skip album, each track was different from the rest, all showing a level of inventiveness and mastery of musical technique not present in previous releases. After playing the entire thing again and again, even the songs I didn’t vibe with at first started to grow on me. Turns out the beauty of Easier and Teeth is in the details: the thrumming bass at the beginning, the unconventional vocal inflections, best appreciated in an enclosed area with the volume on high. My amazement at how their musical style had progressed over the years led to me listening to all of their albums in chronological order, then rewatching some of their funniest interviews which were alarmingly easy to retrieve from memory.

During these times, I’ve wondered why I still remain curious about what they’re doing, why I still give their music a shot when I see it on my Release Radar. They never apologized for the article and I assume that they talk about things of that sort even more now that they’re older.

And I guess the answer is simple. Besides the fact that the music is honest to God amazing, they kind of made me who I am. Having found them during the height of my teen angst phase, I reveled in having idols who were open about rebelling against the system and forging our own paths despite being looked down on by those older than us. It was through them that I was introduced to bands that further diversified my taste in music, that I started experimenting with a more introspective type of writing that led to the style I employ to this day. I made so many good friends because of them, some of which are still in my life today. Looking back, I wouldn’t consider it the best version of myself but she was different. More importantly, she was really happy.

—

I am well-versed in the discourse surrounding problematic faves, and I know that if I ever find myself in such a situation, I have two options: either go down the productive, politically correct road and steer clear from them, or continue to consume their work but with the knowledge that what they did was inexcusable. I teeter between boycotting their music altogether—because even Spotify streams can be translated into revenue and there’s nothing that powers oppressors like financial stability and fame—and choosing to separate the art from the artist so I can appreciate good work without the reputation of its creator clouding my judgment.

I guess at this point, I probably am looking at them with rose-tinted glasses. I heard that some victims of even the most abusive and toxic relationships look back at their time with their former significant others with fondness. Though what I had with Calum, Ashton, Luke, and Michael was nowhere near romantic, and their transgressions far from a personal attack, maybe it applies to my situation too. I look at 5SOS now through the lens of the 14-year-old who embedded watching Keeks into her daily routine, or fell asleep listening to Heartbreak Girl on repeat and rejoiced when it hit 1,000 plays on her iTunes. They are no longer that band, and I am no longer that girl. And while it doesn’t hurt to remember the times when we were those people, I must remind myself that things can never go back to the way they were.

Maybe this doesn’t have to be as dramatic as I’m making it. But that’s the good thing about keeping this blog despite getting published on other corners of the Internet—I can make it as dramatic as I want to be.

#quarantingz #personal #angeltriestoblog #5 seconds of summer #yas we back with the personal essays babey!!!#kasalanan to ng ghost of you #this blog aint dying

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earinfluxion · 7 years ago

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Lali Puna: Two Windows (Morr Music)

Lali Puna has always skirted the periphery of IDM and indie-pop, never quite splashing in any way that’s yielded significant acclaim. And yet their music always exudes a quiet confidence, carried by their laptoppy arrangements and singer Valerie Trebeljahr's breathy vocals. While one might have traced a trajectory across their discography that moved from being almost entirely electronic to progressively more of a band format, perhaps influenced by Markus Acher’s work in his primary project The Notwist. Acher and Trebeljahr separated in the time between Two Windows and Lali Puna’s previous release, 2010's Our Inventions, and as a result, Acher is also absent on Two Windows. This lends the album a distinctly different flavor that’s immediately apparent on the opening title cut. During an age where most primarily electronic acts seem to embrace traditional songwriting and instruments as a forced sort of trajectory, it’s refreshing to hear Lali Puna as a trio revert to a keenly electronic focus moving forward. Acher’s guitar work is conspicuously absent, but the trio make up for it with full-bodied arrangements that still very much feel like a realization of Trebeljahr and long-time musical partners Christoph Brandner and Christian Heiß's collective vision.

Two Windows by Lali Puna

It’s not to say that Two Windows is purely electronic; there are still other instruments integrated into their production, but it definitely takes a backseat to layered electronics. So while no doubt Acher and Trebeljahr’s separation shook things up for her (both musically and personally), that change may have been a compelling enabler in advancing Lali Puna into a new phase of their sound without losing their identity. Even some of the less surprising tracks like “Her Daily Black” feel infused with a bit of new life, a fidgety energy that's evoked through detailed vocal stutters and bulbous synth swells as its rhythm section picks up momentum. My favorites are those cuts that reinfuse the band’s sound with a stronger pulse, recalling the dance music flirtations of their underrated debut, Tridecoder, but updated to sound current, often brimming with fat synth bass, clear hand claps, and punchier rhythmic details. Even as Trebeljahr continues to sing with a breathy, hushed vocal on “Deep Dream,” a collaboration with Dntel (Jimmy Tamborello), the buoyancy of its production lends it a refreshing immediacy when compared to some of their more typical mid-tempo material, and even then their sonic palette feels edgier and more sprightly. The album boasts additional collaborations with Mary Lattimore, Radioactive Man (Keith Tenniswood of Two Lone Swordsmen), and Mimicof, and they fit neatly into the tracklisting without sounding like any one of them is vying for more attention. Much of this has to do with Trebeljahr never relinquishing vocal duties, her breathy voice always providing an anchor as the soul of the music. I do find my attention waning by the time the album has fully played through, even with the welcome updates to their sound, but that is more a testament to their consistency and my attention span than a complaint. Even still, “Birds Flying High” also delivers a punchier result falling later in the album, a more rousing cut full of little vocal details that precedes the album's final stretch which curiously includes a decidedly unfaithful cover of Kings of Leon's “The Bucket.” I’ve always felt that Lali Puna has flown too low under the radar in the pop music landscape, never really receiving their proper dues. Two Windows reinforces that opinion with renewed enthusiasm, one of their strongest efforts to date. Fans of their more rock-infused albums might be surprised by the minimal amount of guitar and a more overtly electronic slant, but to my ears it’s great to hear them advancing their sound and sounding more confident than ever.

Buy it: Bandcamp

#lali puna #indie pop #valerie trebeljahr #christian heiß #electronic music #morr music #idm #indie #electronic

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mercyofficial · 8 years ago

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out of the dark

summary: Sombra's two favorite things are making new friends and exposing corporate corruption, and today she intends to do both.

notes: inspired by this art by @greyopal! i love these two so much ahhhh, and im definitely gonna write more for them!

ao3 link

Her printer has to be the slowest in the world. She shelled out a thousand dollars for this machine and it’s been taking ten minutes to print like, seven files. Sombra always keeps a hard copy of her work until it’s finished. Then she burns it.

Some people use paper shredders, but Sombra can’t stand the thought of leaving a trace. That eye is constantly in her head.

The files are pulled up on her computer screen, glowing a dim blue. Risky (what if someone were looking through the window?), but she wants to admire her work. Vishkar may not be anywhere near as good at helping people as the public thinks they are, but they do have excellent computer security. Nothing is impenetrable, though, not to Sombra - especially not corporate corruption.

Grabbing the ink-dampened paper, Sombra quickly flips through the pages, ensuring all had printed correctly. They’ll be locked inside a file cabinet (protected by three alarms and fourteen different kinds of computer-controlled encrypted locks) until she’s finished with them, and then she’ll burn everything in there and change the locks. Sombra never writes a password down, too risky. Besides, if I forgot one, I could probably hack into my own system, she thinks with amusement. Although that’s probably not a good thing, maybe she should beef up. Talon won’t be pleased if she asks more money for security - but she’s a valuable asset . So they’ll pay up. Always do. Maybe she should ask for a horse ranch, claim it’s vital to her work. Or seventy copies of the Linkin Park discography and hide them in Reaper’s room.

Snickering at her own jokes, Sombra throws the files in the cabinet and shuts the door, which automatically locks. She doesn’t bother to grab any extra equipment on the way out the door to catch her flight. Her internal cyber-enhancements will suffice for this job - well, job isn’t exactly the right word. This is more of a personal project. She isn’t exactly expecting resistance, anyway.

Will the files be enough to sink the company? Of course not. If (and probably when) she publishes them, they’ll be a PR disaster, but there’ll be a few firings and some monetary loss and some tearful, paid off citizens going on about how much Vishkar has done for their community and how they know they can learn from their mistakes, and ten days later the company will have three new major contracts.

They are enough to make a new friend, though. And Sombra loves making new friends.

----------------

She’s parked herself in a cyber cafe near Vishkar’s headquarters, in a corner, giving the security a once-over. She already has the blueprints, and in particular, the on-location apartment of her soon-to-be new friend. This was not going to be difficult. Nowadays, companies are so focused on keeping out hackers that they neglect physical security. With that in mind, her stolen translocating technology, invisibility camouflage, and, of course, laser gun, will practically guarantee her unlimited access to a building if she’s careful. And Sombra is always careful.

Her target is Satya Vaswani, aka Symmetra (Symmetra, symmetry, subtle, much. Sombra spent a few minutes eye-rolling when she read that one.) A top Architech at Vishkar, and seems to truly believe her company is making the world a better place. Naive, but Sombra can’t be too annoyed with her. They’re quite alike, after all, if she thinks about it: impoverished with a difficult childhood, an aptitude for technology that got them out of the slums, and willing enough to commit crimes for their aims.

That’s where it ends, though. Satya had been plucked from the streets by Vishkar and made their golden girl, but Sombra had joined gangs and fought everyone and everything tooth and nail for what she has now. Satya wants to improve the world. Sombra just wants to control it.

Though, considering Vishkar’s methods and that Symmetra cooperated with them, they might be similar that way, as well. Although she did have to note, Symmetra went along. Who knows what Satya gets up to in her free time? Sombra can’t help but giggle. She doubts a secret rebellion. From what she’s read and seen of the girl, she seems like a rule-follower, regardless of what the rules were.

These might change that, though , Sombra thinks, glancing down at the screen displaying the files she’d hacked directly from the CEO’s laptop a week or two ago.

Sombra had thought about going after the CEO himself. The files she has won’t sink the company, but they’ll sink him , and she’s sure he’d do whatever she asked to keep himself afloat. But what Vishkar’s doing strikes something in Sombra, because they’re hurting those like she had been, orphans on streets who don’t have the talents she has to get themselves out. Sombra wants the men in charge of Vishkar in prison, at least, if she can’t get them dead. And they won’t be any help if they’re in prison or hell.

But, in Satya’s case, Sombra seriously doubts she knows what’s really going on at Vishkar. Maybe she really should call it naivety, to not realize, but she has a feeling it isn’t - Satya seems like she really does just want to make the world a better place, and may be doing some unconscious selective noticing to accomplish it. Sombra can empathize with that. And not only does she want a new friend (the leading manipulator of hard light tech? a force ), but maybe she’s taking a small liking to Satya. And it would probably be better finding out your life’s work was nearly pointless because of corruption in private, rather than from national TV the next morning, with reporters hunting down every bit of contact information you have.

It’s a weekend night, and the clubs are full as Sombra makes her way to the headquarters. The multitudes of people on the street make it easy to slip around to a back entrance, go invisible, and take out the security guy with a nerve strike to the neck. Touching her cybernetic fingers to the locks, programs she’s already tested on locks just like this one spring to life, slipping into the bugs and wires and feeding the codes back to her. She drops a translocator in a bush for safety and sneaks in, again going invisible just long enough to reach the nearest security camera. Within seconds, her custom applications have thrown a bug into the system that’ll feed the cameras endless ten-second loops. With luck, the person watching the security cameras will be like most corporate employees who watch security cameras - bored and playing the latest hot app instead of paying attention.

If not, and she senses any alarm, she’s pretty sure she gave herself enough time to get to the security room and place a well-aimed laser blast at his chest before he notices her. Won’t kill him, but he won’t be happy. Which doesn’t matter to her, of course. Sombra doesn’t go out of her way to kill. As long as he’s out of her way, she doesn’t exactly care.

Now Sombra really books it, dashing through the hallways using the blueprint she memorized, only occasionally pausing to confirm a direction or go invisible to let some politely-laughing businessmen carrying briefcases walk through. She decides to take the elevator, figuring her invisibility will last long enough to make the ride if someone gets on. Vishkar’s headquarters are gigantic , a sign of the company’s power, but luckily they aren’t exactly tall. Dashing into the hallway where the elevators are, she clicks the up button and slips in, consulting her blueprint once more before pressing 7.

As it’s night, the headquarters aren’t busy, so Sombra isn’t bothered - and once she gets off at floor 7, there’s even less people. Even if she hadn’t already hacked into Satya’s calendar, Sombra seriously doubts that she wouldn’t find the Architech in her room. Satya didn’t give off a vibe of friendliness, and a look further back into her calendar, with events meticulously added and color-coded and lacking any color for “fun”, confirmed this.

Sombra smiles slightly as she strolls along the hallway - there’s another similarity to her little list. She herself certainly isn’t against going out to a club and flirting with a girl or guy or two of each, but relationships of any kind are off the table. The whole “hacker on a one-woman crusade to take control of the world” sort of prevents that, and friends are just going to want stuff in the end. Her closest companions are probably frequent Talon mission mates Reaper and Widowmaker, and when the people you’re closest to are a literal wraith and a blue ballet-dancer-turned-assassin, you probably don’t have many friends.

She gets to Satya’s door. It’s a simple, sleek white piece of work, computer controlled with some great security. Unless you’re Sombra, of course, in which case it takes a few touches and a click. It would have been even easier if she could have just ripped the passwords from Satya’s computer, but the other woman didn’t seem to write any passwords down, either. I wonder if she’s as paranoid as I am, ha. Sombra activates her invisibility and drops a translocator before entering the keycode and opening the door with a soft whoosh. She steps inside, and it closes behind her with nearly no sound.

The room is stark, all white and pale blue with not much customization. It’s quite beautiful and modern, or at least Sombra thinks so. She doesn’t have as much time to explore as she would like, because apparently Satya also doesn’t believe in bedtime and is sitting on a ledge, next to her window. Presumably, she was enjoying the admittedly quite excellent view of the night sky before her door mysteriously opened, though she doesn’t seem to be panicking. Sombra takes her time, making sure the door has locked them in and all the alarms are disabled before plopping down on the cushion across from Satya and making herself visible.

“Hola, amiga,” she chirps, resting her elbow against the window and giving her a bright smile. Satya looks unamused. Sombra had thought she was quite pretty from the television interviews she’d seen (and the secret selfies she may have examined when going through the contents of Satya’s phone), and the woman is even more beautiful up close, dark brown eyes giving Sombra a once-over before lifting back up to meet Sombra’s own.

“I would ask who you are, but I doubt you intend to tell me.”

Sombra giggles. “Ooh, you’re astute! No, I don’t. I know who you are, though, Satya. Quite a name you’ve made for yourself at Vishkar, yes?”

Satya frowns. “I don’t know what you’re trying to do, but I will not be bribed. Or undermine the company, so don’t even try.” Sombra notices something, in her right hand, presumably some device used to alarm someone who will make life far more irritating for Sombra. She leans over, quick as a flash, placing her hand over the other woman’s own and grinning right in her face.

“Oh, I don’t need to get you to do it. They do enough of that themselves. I’m just interested in, oh….. informing you.”

There’s a slight pause, and then she feels Satya’s fingers, slowly, one by one, remove themselves from the button. Sombra snatches it out of her hand, but Satya doesn’t react, except for her suspicious frown deepening as Sombra leans back.

“I’m listening.”

Sombra smiles. She’s played this game, a thousand times before. Steal incriminating files, sneak in, show them to the right person, and bam! A lovely, helpful new friend. Sombra may not have any close friends, but she certainly has a lot of them.

Sombra slips off the cushion and walks over to the table, beckoning for Satya to join her. Warily, Satya gets up, quietly walking over a wooden chair and seating herself in it, expectantly.

“Just wait a moment.” She pulls up her screen through her gloves, clicking through to her files as Satya watches. She looks slightly irritated, probably because much of Sombra’s equipment, from her invisibility to the screens she’s using right now, are quite blatantly stolen Vishkar hard-light technology (the translocator was from the talking gorilla, she hacked the blueprints of that chronal thing he made for the annoying Brit and quite ingeniously redesigned them, if she does say so herself). She seems about to say something, but just then Sombra finds the files she was looking for, pulling them up. “Look through them as you wish, I’m sure you know your way around this sort of screen.”

Satya looks at her. Just for one second, and Sombra’s not sure what the other’s trying to read from her face before Satya turns back to the screen and tentatively touches a finger to it. She’s a fast reader, Sombra can tell from how quickly she’s flipping through them - files directly ripped from the company computers, newspaper reports and pictures put next to each other that line up in highly suspicious ways, reports of what the corporation has told Satya to do and what papers to get, but then the part she doubted Satya had known, added parts of what exactly the company intended to do with those files.

It’s damning, and Sombra can see Satya’s life falling down around her pretty face.

She gets to the last file, and Satya pauses, for another long second, eyes moving across the screen, before slowly removing her finger from it and dropping her head into her hands. One look had obviously been enough. Sombra jabs a finger at it, a “missing” financial report clearly showing the Vishkar executives spending money that was supposed to go to the Rio housing facilities on a luxury jet.

“You see, Satya? Vishkar was lying to you all along.”

Satya doesn’t move. Or speak. Or cry. Sombra is not actually sure she’s breathing.

She’s quiet for a very long time.

It makes Sombra nervous, being here for this long. It’s risky. Whenever Sombra goes to make new friends, they don’t shut down. They snark, they scowl, they plead, they try and act superior, and she loves it. But Satya is silent, processing what Sombra has shown her, and Sombra, for reasons unknown to even herself, decides to wait.

Finally, as Sombra watches, Satya stands up and walks over to a counter where a blue bag is sitting. She reaches inside the bag, and takes out two things - an extremely official-looking Vishkar license and a cellphone. Calmly and without saying anything, she proceeds to drop the license on the floor and crush it with the heel of her boot. Sombra nearly jumps from loud cracking noise, as Satya methodically sweeps the pieces into a corner with said boot and picks up the cellphone.

“Hello?” She sounds far more put together then Sombra thinks she would in this sort of situation. “Yes, it’s Satya. I thought I should inform you that I’m feeling very sick right now, so I won’t be able to attend tonight’s meeting…….No, no, it’s alright, I just need some more rest. Mm-hmm…...Thank you for your concern. Goodbye.”

The cellphone drops on the counter, and Satya turns back around. Sombra looks at her.

“You’re not going to tell them I’m here?”

Satya’s hand tightens into a fist. She’s angry, Sombra realizes, not broken or whatever stupid trope one would usually expect. Angry enough that tears are beginning to leak from the sides of her eyes – not noticeably, but they’re there. Sombra thinks she looks very pretty crying, but also decides that this is not the time to mention so. “I trust you more than….than I trust them, at the moment.”

Sombra stays quiet, as Satya walks over the the window. She’s pacing now, around the room. The files are still pulled up over the table, floating there, winking, purple little puzzle pieces that line up to make something terrible.

“We were supposed to be doing good.” she mutters, each word clipped, teeth sounding clenched. She whirls around to face Sombra, turning her gaze on her. Sombra flinches involuntarily. She is not one easily scared, and Satya’s anger is not that outwardly expressed. But her eyes have a silent, terrifying intensity.

“Why are you showing me these things?” she asks, boring holes in Sombra’s eyes with her own. “What do you want from me?” That’s another similarity, Sombra thinks, because from the tone in Satya’s voice she’s asked that question many times, albeit probably with a different tone of voice. Everyone always wants something from you, when you’re good.

Sombra doesn’t smile, like she usually would. But business is business. “I’m publishing them, see. I dislike Vishkar as much as you probably do now - and you probably have more puzzle pieces than me. But these’ll get you thrown in prison too, most likely. All I want is a favor, every so often, if I need it, and then I’ll wipe your name and incriminating info from the files when I publish them.”

Usually, when she makes these sort of offers, the person hesitates. She’s had people refuse or try to take her out then and there, thinking prison is better than being beholden to an (in their minds) insane hacker. Satya does not hesitate.

“Fine.”

Sombra raises an eyebrow at her. “Eager, are we?”

“I want to make the world a better place. That is all. I cannot do so from in prison, but I can out of it, and for that I can afford a few favors to you - especially as you are the one opening my eyes to reality in the first place. I do not think you are a bad person, and I doubt you’ll ask me to do anything too terrible.”

That deserves a slight laugh. “Oh, now there’s a first! You should hear what other people have called me in the past. So, you will leave?”

“Yes.”

“Well, no need to give me contact information. I’m sure I can find you.” Satya doesn’t appear to find that amusing, sadly, already pulling out a laptop. Sombra closes her screens, standing there. She’s quite tempted to ask Satya what exactly she intends to do now. But it’s getting light, now, and she’s already been here far, far too long. She’s about to melt away into the shadows, but then Satya, still looking at her laptop screen, speaks.

“What should I refer to you as?”

“Pardon?”

“If we’re going to be working together in some form, I would like to know what to call you.”

Sombra shouldn’t tell her.

“Sombra.” Then she vanishes.

-------------------

Sombra gets out of the building, no problem, as expected. But she can’t forget those eyes of Satya’s, so brightly intense even right after watching her world fall down around her. Though, to be fair, Sombra doubts the woman suspected nothing even before the files. She’s a smart one.

She edits the online copy of the files on her plane ride home, the one set to be sent mysteriously to several top reporters with instructions to publish as soon as possible - as promised, taking out all references to Symmetra or Satya Vaswani. It’s not difficult, there’s not really that much. Just enough to be threatening.

Her hard copy in the file cabinet, with the incriminating info, is what she spends four hours staring at. It’s irrational, she knows. Satya could be useful. She should keep her leverage.

She can’t stop thinking about those eyes, though.

All Sombra has ever wanted was control. But Satya…...Satya wants to do good, so, so badly. If someone ever got into this apartment…..

She glances at her computer. She hacked Satya’s laptop, of course, and her recent browsing history is running through the screen. Satya must have opened two tabs before she went to sleep. One was a normal search for the word sombra. The other was a search, in a private, untraceable browser, for “overwatch recall”.

Sombra burns the files.

#symbra #symmetra #satya vaswani #sombra #overwatch #angst #I LOVE THEM SO MUCH #THERES NOT ENOUGH CONTENT SO IM MAKING IT MYSELF #ALL OF IT #alex writes #text #my posts #although idk if i really have them Down™ yet #im not sure it would go exactly like this #i think there could be more slow burnish things

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chorusfm · 8 years ago

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Back on AbsolutePunk.net we would run a feature each year called the “Absolute 100.” The basic idea was to put together a list of bands and artists that we thought needed to get a little more attention. This would range from unsigned, to under-the-radar, to underrated acts that we wanted to highlight. Over the years it ended up being one of my favorite features we compiled (I personally discovered quite a few new bands from it). And, I’ve heard from a lot for readers that you loved it as well.

Today I’m excited to bring this feature back under a new name. We’re calling it “In the Spotlight” and we’ve got the same goal: highlight a bunch of artists we think you should check out. This year we’ve got 50 for you. Over the past month our contributors have been putting together blurbs and pulling out song recommendations, and today we’ve got the first group of 25. We’ll be releasing the next set tomorrow.

The Wild Reeds

by Craig Manning

The Wild Reeds make music that isn’t quite rock, isn’t quite country, isn’t quite folk, and isn’t quite pop, but that has clear traces of all of them. That’s the charm of the trio’s sophomore LP, The World We Built, which dropped at the beginning of March. Tight three-part female harmonies, a crackling rhythm section, and big shout-to-the-rafters choruses are the ingredients that make up the songs on World—particularly “Only Songs,” the set’s opening track and lead single. On that song, a distorted electric guitar swings through the proceedings like a wrecking ball, the three band members bellowing their vocal parts like their lives depend on it. And they just might: “Cause the only thing that saves me/Are the songs I sing, baby/You can’t save me from anything,” goes the infectious chorus. The rest of the record hums with a similar life-or-death energy—a thrilling quality that makes it one of the year’s surest breakout LPs.

Recommended Track: “Only Songs”

RIYL: First Aid Kit, Haim, The Staves

Culprit

by Deanna Chapman

Despite being in the Southern California area, I’m probably not as familiar with the local scene as I should be. However, in the abundance of bands, I was introduced to Culprit. Even with some minor line up changes over the years, they keep things moving forward. Sonder is their latest release and it’s a solid rock album. They have their sound down and Travis’ vocals are constantly great. The songwriting is a huge plus, too. They still blow me away with their big sound and emotion inducing lyrics.

Recommended Track: “Anything”

RIYL: From Indian Lakes, Thrice, Emarosa

Animal Flag

by Aj LaGambina

MA-based band, Animal Flag, released their debut LP last year, the aptly named LP. The record is actually a remaster and resequenced version of the two EP’s the band released before it, and boy does it sound great. These guys write loud, distinctive alternative rock that draws equal influence from Brand New’s midtempo songs, the Run For Cover records catalog, and “emo revival” bands, though their ability to write a hook coupled with a mastery of dynamic songwriting is what really sets them apart. The best example of their sound is the song “Sensation,” who’s layered instrumental and massive chorus gives a decent idea of what the band is capable of.

Recommended Track: “Sensation”

RIYL: Turnover, Brand New, Manchester Orchestra

Allie X

by Jason Tate

Alexandra Ashley Hughes, under the moniker Allie X, mixes a cocktail of quirky, catchy, and heartfelt into her music. While the music usually winds between upbeat and frenetic, there’s an undeniable darkness to much of the lyrical content. With an EP of music already under her belt, this June will see the release of her debut full-length. If the first few songs released are any indication, we have another round of perfectly produced pop-goodness coming our way.

Recommended Track: “That’s So Us”

RIYL: Charli XCX, Foxes, Betty Who

Susto

by Greg Robson

Let this be known: Charleston, SC quintet Susto are on the precipice of breaking out. Their latest album & I’m Fine Today blends hazy folk-pop meanderings with sublime and near-perfect alt-country. Drawing on the likes of Wilco and Neil Young and drawing on the age-old themes of love lost, love won, late-night partying and indifference, the band’s expansive sound reinvents Southern rock in a way that needs to be heard to be realized. Contemplative, self-assured and deeply rewarding, & I’m Fine Today is a monster of a record from a band that’s well on their way to breaking out. With a summer full of festivals and a bookshelf full of critical praise, 2017 might just be the year SUSTO becomes a household name.

Recommended Track: “Waves”

RIYL: Wilco, The Head and the Heart, The Lumineers, Shovels and Rope

Muncie Girls

by Zac Djamoos

On the first song on Muncie Girls’ From Caplan to Belsize, frontwoman Lande Hekt implores the listener to “try and leave your own little mark on this earth.” It seems like she’s taking her own advice – her band’s debut is ten tracks of the most energetic powerpop I’ve heard in a long time. The lyrics might be the biggest draw here, as Hekt delivers wise-beyond-her-years musings on misogyny, family, and developing radical politics, while never sounding like a textbook. From Caplan to Belsize would be legacy enough for most bands – I can’t wait to see where Muncie Girls want to take us next.

Recommended Track: “Balloon”

RIYL: Cartel, Moose Blood, Fall Out Boy

The Magic Gang

by Kyle Huntington

Brighton, England based The Magic Gang have been going from strength-to-strength for the past few years, releasing a total of three EPs to date. Each EP documents the band’s considered progression but also highlights the excitement that the jangly indie-pop group can evoke in listeners. From the more recent and angular single “How Can I Compete?” which recalls The Strokes in their early days or “Only Waiting” which is a must for any Mac DeMarco fans – The Magic Gang create the infectious, melodic and enriching breed of indie music that is near enough impossible to dislike.

Recommended Track: “How Can I Compete”

RIYL: Mac DeMarco, Weezer, The Strokes

Gold Steps

by Becky Kovach

Gold Steps has only been around about a year, but with an EP and performances at SXSW and So What?! Music Festival under their belt, the band is already making waves in the local Austin scene. But it shouldn’t be long before the buzz starts to spread. With bold choruses and explosive energy that demands attention, I think they’re exactly what the pop punk world needs right now. There’s also the added bonus of a kick ass female vocalist who, with a little time and practice, could be the next powerhouse of the genre.

Recommended Track: “Louder Than Words”

RIYL: Nominee, Sleep On It, We Are The In Crowd

Lindi Ortega

by Eric Wilson

Hailing from Toronto, Ontario, and currently residing in Nashville, Lindi Ortega is a country singer/songwriter with amazing talent and a soulful voice. She has released several albums and EPs since 2001, and her latest EP ’Til the Goin’ Gets Gone continues to showcase her depth and talent when it comes to music and songwriting. Whether you’re in the mood for some mellow folk music, or something a bit more on the country side, Ortega’s discography will give you plenty of options to choose from. I’m excited to hear how her style will continue to evolve over time.

Recommended Track: “Til the Goin’ Gets Gone”

RIYL: Kacey Musgraves, Sarah Jarosz

Natalie Hemby

by Craig Manning

You might not know Natalie Hemby’s name, but if you’ve ever listened to country radio, you’ve probably heard one of her songs. An ultra-prolific gun-for-hire, Hemby has credits on records by everyone from Miranda Lambert to Maren Morris to Nelly Furtado. In her “day job,” Hemby knows how to spin a turn of phrase or a catchy chorus to build a surefire radio earworm. On her debut record, though, Hemby dials back her own mainstream country leanings for something far more personal and understated. The record in question, this year’s splendid Puxico, is an album about home, family, youth, young love, summer, and life itself. Remarkably, given Hemby’s resume, there isn’t an obvious single. Instead, Puxico is a capital-A Album, built around concept (Hemby wrote it about her grandfather’s hometown) and sturdy, mood-setting tracks (swoon-worthy summer night gems like “Lovers on Display” and “Worn”). The resulting record is destined to land plenty of “Best of the Year” notices come to December—and perhaps maybe even a Grammy nod or two.

Recommended Track: “Lovers on Display”

RIYL: Kacey Musgraves, Brandy Clark, Miranda Lambert

Feeny

by Craig Ismaili

After years of grinding out explosive live sets in support of their first EP Winter Of Our Disconnect, Feeny found themselves at a crossroads in late 2015, as they went into the studio to record with Jesse Cannon. Would they continue to hone the pop-punk sound of their early material, despite the growing sense within the band that pop-punk was not what interested them most musically anymore? Or would they take a leap forward sonically, potentially distancing themselves from their peers and bands they had played with in the past. The New Jersey quartet Feeny chose correctly, reinventing their sound for their 2016 EP No Beauty In Routine. While there are still moments where Feeny break into the bar chord blitzkrieg of pop-punk, they let songs breathe so much more on the EP than they ever have in the past, breaking into moments that border on post-rock. The results show in moments like the end of the featured song, “Patience in Paranoia” where, after vocalist Matthew Koerner howls the song’s final line, “These memories are never enough,” the music breaks down to a softly strummed guitar, and the sounds of a wistful chord progression, as if the song is flicking through the carousel of memories. No Beauty in Routine is a moody, introspective record, with songs like the brooding “Spoliation (Uncomfortable),” exploring insecurities and irreconcilable differences which can tear relationships apart. It’s honest, heartfelt music from a band that trades on this sort of heart-on-sleeve troubadorism.

Recommended Track: “Patience and Paranoia”

RIYL: Microwave, Saves The Day, Taking Back Sunday

Super American

by Deanna Chapman

Take This To Heart Records continues to impress with the band’s they sign. Super American polished up their sound and recently released Disposable. The album is solid top to bottom. The album mixes upbeat songs with a couple that slow things down and give you time to realize just how good the band is. Their personality shines with their songs and they’re a band you’ll want to check out. It would be a shame to miss out on their recent release. It’s a stand out for me in 2017 so far.

Recommended Track: “Sloppy Jazz”

RIYL: Weezer, Superdrag, State Champs

Rosie Carney

by Greg Robson

Irish singer-songwriter Rosie Carney sings her songs with such conviction and sincerity you’ll find it near impossible to turn away. The thought-provoking and melancholic ballad “Awake Me” recounts her battles with both anorexia and depression and calls to mind both Joni Mitchell and Bon Iver. At only 19, Carney possesses a triple threat: deft piano playing, poetic verses and soaring melodies. Her songs are meticulously crafted, achingly tender, wise beyond their years and utterly timeless. A veteran of SXSW, Carney is poised for a big 2017 and should make waves on American soil in the very near future.

Recommended Track: “Awake Me”

RIYL: Joni Mitchell, Bon Iver, Joanna Newsom, Carole King

Daydream

by Aj LaGambina

California’s Daydream just released their debut full length Enjoy Nothing on April 4th, a more-than-worthy follow-up to their two 2016 EP’s. The entire record is stacked with hooks, big guitars, and the kind of instantly relatable lyrics found on some of the best emo/pop/rock records of the early 2000’s. Slow opener “Seeking Human Kindness” marks a strong start for the record and it keeps getting better from there. Though closer “Goodbye in Downtown” and second track “Bored” are the best examples of Daydream’s overall sound. The whole LP begs to be played while speeding down the highway, and that’s exactly how I’ll listen to it.

Recommended Track: “Bored”

RIYL: Jimmy Eat World, The Menzingers

Rick Brantley

by Craig Manning

Rick Brantley wrote the best song I heard in 2016. The tune in question, an understated ballad called “Hurt People,” doesn’t sound like much when you first hit play: just a simple piano line and Brantley’s spoken-word delivery. But focus on the lyrics, and “Hurt People” will crack your heart in half like a walnut, seal it back together, and give you the inspiration to be better. I won’t spoil too much: the song deserves to stand on its own, and reading about it can’t possibly compare to hearing it. But suffice to say that Brantley’s tales—about an abused kid who bullies his classmates, about a girl who has never felt love in her life, and about the scars we all have that we can never erase—carry lessons that everyone needs to learn right now. The rest of Brantley’s output—including two recent EPs, the largely acoustic Lo-Fi and the more rock-oriented Hi-Fi—display his dynamic songwriting talents, his big voice, and his Springsteen-circa-Lucky Town sound. But “Hurt People” alone would merit Brantley a spot on this list, if only because it’s one of those rare songs that I think every person in the world should hear.

Recommended Track: “Hurt People”

RIYL: Bruce Springsteen, John Moreland, Butch Walker

Pale Waves

by Jason Tate

Dirty Hit Records have been on a roll with their signings and the latest, Pale Waves, is no exception. Breathy pop-music with a groove, helped by Matt and George of The 1975’s unmistakable crystalline production, propels the lead single “There’s a Honey” to ear-candy status. Hopefully we’ll be getting more music from this group in the near future, yet one song’s enough to have turned my head and put this band smack dab in the middle of my radar.

Recommended Track: “There’s A Honey”

RIYL: The Japanese House, The 1975

Save Ends

by Zac Djamoos

Black Numbers has been one of the best and most under-appreciated labels around for a few years now, and last year they signed one of the best and most under-appreciated bands around. Save Ends’ effortlessly catchy brand of emo-influenced pop-punk feels like the kind of stuff that could’ve come out on Vagrant Records in ’01 just as easily as on Black Numbers in ’16. With the weather getting warmer and the band in the studio, there’s no better time than now to check out (or revisit) their full-length debut Warm Hearts, Cold Hands.

Recommended Track: “I Fell Asleep”

RIYL: Saves the Day, Tigers Jaw, Turnover

Many Rooms

by Craig Ismaili

Many Rooms is the brainchild of Brianna Hunt, and thus far they have released just six songs with the project. Those six came in the form of an EP called Hollow Body which was released back at the end of 2015. The first time I heard “Hollow Body” it shook me down to my very core. If you, like I did, fell in love with the stark intimacy of Julien Baker’s “Sprained Ankle,” I full-heartedly believe you will fall in love with Many Rooms. You see, “Sprained Ankle” feels like you are in the room with Baker as she pours her heart out on the track. Many Rooms feels like you are in the room with Hunt, except it’s pitch black and she is singing off into the void of the darkness. There is such a soul-bearing honesty to the songs on Hollow Body. Hunt’s lyrics, ethereal though her voice may be, seem to cut down to the very core of humanity. “Promises”, the second track on Hollow Body, has some of my favorite lyrics of the decade: “oh, how beautiful a lie / when it makes you feel like you can fly / and your wings are made of paper dreams and paper futures.” I can’t wait until Hunt releases more music with this project.

Recommended Track: Promises

RIYL: Julien Baker, Conor Oberst, Elliot Smith

Sainte

by Anna Acosta

Sainte is the long-anticipated solo project of former We Are the In Crowd vocalist Tay Jardine, and it delivers in spades. Although the project has only released two singles to date, the tracks are explosive, dance-y pop numbers that bode incredibly well for what’s to come. Jardine’s expressive songwriting and vocals are finally the focal point of the music she’s making, and the result is a refreshingly authentic sound that manages to feel both joyful and completely authentic. Jardine is all grown up, and she’s not pulling any punches.

Recommended Track: “With Or Without Me”

RIYL: We Are The In Crowd, Tonight Alive, The Gospel Youth

Mom Jeans.

by Becky Kovach

I went into my first Mom Jeans. show having never seen them before and with very little knowledge of their music. I was sold the minute their guitarist took a between-song break as an opportunity to showcase his repertoire of dad jokes. It also helps that the band’s lyrics are endearing in a pour-out-your-heart kind of way, and their music blends emo, punk, and acoustic into a cathartic rush of passion. Oh and did I mention that their single “edward 40hands” samples Bob’s Burgers? Yeah.

Recommended Track: “Edward 40hands”

RIYL: Sorority Noise, Oso Oso, The Front Bottoms

Oso Oso

by Jason Tate

There’s something perfectly nostalgic about Oso Oso’s The Yunahon Mixtape. It’s a little like opening a time capsule from the early 00’s and finding an album inside from a band you’ve never heard but could almost swear you used to love. I’m pulled back to my early college days filled with sharing mixtapes with dorm room friends, laying in the sun with one album on repeat, and getting wrapped in every note. This gem of an album was released in January. If you’re looking for something that sounds a little like yesteryear while being a welcome jolt during a time that seems too fucked-up to be real, you should make this the next album you spin.

Recommended Track: “The Cool”

RIYL: State Lines, Sorority Noise, You Blew It!

Striking Matches

by Craig Manning

Striking Matches is a band with one of the all-time great origin stories. A duo featuring singer/songwriter/guitarists Sarah Zimmerman and Justin Davis, the band got its start in the classroom ten years ago, when the two freshman guitar majors got paired up by a professor. As you could probably already gather from the band name, there was a spark. Since then, Striking Matches have opened for everyone from Train to Ashley Monroe to Vince Gill, written songs for the country music soap opera Nashville, and made their debut album under the tutelage of none other than T Bone Burnett. That’s quite the whirlwind start for any act, but one gets the sense that Zimmerman and Davis can handle it. On their debut album, 2015’s Nothing but the Silence, Zimmerman and Davis forged a true two-person identity. They both sang, they both wrote songs, and they both had plenty of room to show off their shit-kicking guitar skills. The songs themselves were incredibly refined, from the tender Civil Wars-esque ballads (“Nothing but the Silence,” “When the Right One Comes Along”) to the livewire rockers (turbulent opener “Trouble Is as Trouble Does”). And then there’s the outro to “Make a Liar Out of Me,” where Zimmerman shreds one of the most badass guitar solos of the 21st century.

Recommended Track: “Make a Liar Out of Me”

RIYL: The Civil Wars, melody-driven country-folk songs with incredible guitarwork

Crows

by Kyle Huntington

If there was ever a new band to ignite the primal connection to music – it’s Crows from London, England. Drawing influence in sound from the any of the post-punk greats with a splattering of shoegaze elements, garage rawness and hardcore tendencies – they’re a band who create the sense of walking a tightrope, a balancing act between unsettling chaos and energised melody – undeniable in its intense excitement. Whether on record with buzzsaw guitars and sweet darkness or in a live setting where they thrive and are one of the most captivating bands performing today – to the point where frontman James Cox commands, antagonises, includes and hypnotises the crowd in only the best ways – Crows are the exhilarating new punk band people have been waiting for. Check out “The Itch” and its explosion for an insight as well as “Whisper”.

Recommended Track: “Whisper”

RIYL: Joy Division, Fugazi, METZ

Donna Missal

by Craig Ismaili

You know a song is special when Zane Lowe uses his massive platform on Beats Radio 1 to premiere the debut single from an unsigned artist. That single was the sultry, incendiary “Keep Lying” from Donna Missal. The song has echoes of Nina Simone all over it, plus more than a bit of resemblance to Amy Winehouse’s “Back To Black.” To put it more simply, “Keep Lying” has some heeeaaat. But the New Jersey singer didn’t stop there. She has since released a string of singles over the past few years, including, most recently, the spacious, breathy “Holiday.” She has a chance to be a special musician in an era with a distinct lack of voices like her. In times where people with voices like hers are often pushed to alternative rock (Elle King), Donna Missal has a chance to lead the charge for the return of the seductress to pop radio. She’s finishing up her debut full-length album now, and I have hope it will be released later this year.

Recommended Track: “Keep Lying”

RIYL: Elle King, Nina Simone, Amy Winehouse

Cold Climb It

by Becky Kovach

If the vocalist of Cold Climb It sounds familiar, maybe take a closer listen to the backing vocals in some of your favorite The Wonder Years tracks. Yup, that’s Matt Brasch. Cold Climb It is an additional endeavor of Brasch’s, started a little less than a year ago. Since then the band has played a smattering of shows in the Philly area and released their debut EP Fade. Brasch steps into the spotlight on these songs, and seems at home in the position; he tackles the role of lead singer/songwriter with grace and ease. His voice has long reminded me of Smoking Popes’ Josh Caterer – melancholy in a soothing way – and the band’s brooding tones darker lyrics are a perfect fit. While The Wonder Years will always have my heart, Cold Climb It has become a new favorite for me and I look forward to seeing what Brasch does with the band in the future.

Recommended Track: “Looking Hard For Inspiration”

RIYL: Smoking Popes, Microwave, Alkaline Trio

Check back tomorrow for our second round of 25.

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