25 years ago Beastie Boys told me and you and Ma Bell they had the 'Ill Communication.'

This is another in a continuing series of "JESUS CHRIST I'M GETTING SO OLD' posts. The one bright side to these posts is hearing all my friends echo the same refrain. The funny thing about getting old is I still, in many ways, feel like the kid that first heard Beastie Boys' Ill Communication the day it came out in 1994. If I remember correctly I ran straight to Appletree Records when they opened (midnight sales seem to have fizzled out by this time period for some reason) and played the album non-stop.

I don't remember, but I probably played it at The Gallery that weekend (it cam out on a Tuesday but I usually didn't DJ until Fridays by that point).

Anyway, enjoy the short documentary above and pull the album out for a celebratory listen, if yu haven't already.

Just because your past haunts you doesn't mean you need to keep living in it, right?

I think I've looked at this cursor blink a couple hundred times a I sit here in the early morning light trying to figure out what I want to say as a cat's light snores make their way through the doorway behind me.

I've spent some serious time eradicating the unhealthy tendencies from my life, and I've mentioned them here before—daily workouts, 7-8 hours of sleep (unheard of in the past!), knocking out 99.99% of any alcohol consumption, a return to reading books instead of scrolling through my phone in those down moments, and so on.

So I should feel fabulous, right?

Well, physically, yes. I let myself go over the last year and a half and it feels incredibly good to get back into shape. I should hit my summer weight, oh, halfway through the summer—but at least I'll get there. And that makes me happy. But body is just a beginning, no?

Yesterday stirred up a lot of emotions and memories and things I thought no longer affected me, but obviously do. A year ago I was unemployed and used the day as an excuse to get plastered and feel sorry for myself. What a difference a year makes! This time around I just went about my business as best I could and instead dealt with every emotion and memory as they came along, trying to learn from them and put them to rest. Just because your past haunts you doesn't mean you need to keep living in it, right?

Huh, I just realized its been two weeks since I left the house to do anything social. In that time I've just worked, caught up on TV, read, and gone to sleep earlier and earlier. (That last bit might seem odd, but after averaging 2-3 hours of sleep for months it's actually a positive sign, to me.)

Sorry, this is rambling. And that cat just stopped snoring and got off her stool, so it's clearly time to scratch her behind her ears just the way she likes as she enjoys her breakfast. It's a good moment to get lost in.

I'll figure all this other stuff out later.

The one moment...

The Ritualists transport you to a world surging with dark waves both dramatic and familiar.

Photo by Sam Keeler

The Ritualists mixes early Cult with early Suede. At least that's what I'm hearing in the first couple of seconds I started testing out. On their new album Painted People, out August 2, the band sounds like an industrial kitchen mixer of glam, hard rock, and melodramatic pop influences. Listen to the album's first single "Ice Flower" below and tell me I'm wrong.

But that's lazy of me, no? The honest fact is that this album appeared in my inbox just this afternoon, and as usual I started to play a few seconds of a few songs in order to properly label it for eventual upload to Ye Olde tankPHONE once I got home this evening.* Only a funny thing happened, and I found that instead of hitting fast forward or "NEXT!" I settled in and listened to the whole thing right away.

Why did this happen? It's not because the album is amazingly groundbreaking or anything like that. I think it had more to do with how alien it sounded. I mean, the tropes are familiar, but its been so long since I've heard much of a band's machinations that could easily feel arch come off as sincere. Perhaps that's the band's talent? For all I know, front-person Christian Dryden and his very band of musicians could be total scene poseurs. If that's the case, they know their scene better than any faker, and come awfully close to sounding sincere. So if it's a pose, it's an incredibly well struck one.

In the band's latest press release Dryden speaks of "being inspired by larger-than-life characters such as David Bowie, Simon Le Bon, Bryan Ferry and Marc Bolan" and Painted People certainly channels that inspiration proudly and openly.** The Ritualists takes these touchstones and cast them into a crystalline pond, subsequently skimming its surface for a collection of glistening songs that actually feel like the band means what they're saying. Whether that's true or not doesn't really matter though—this is an unexpected pleasure straight out of left field that I'm glad I neglected to hit pause upon and instead swallowed whole.



*For the unfamiliar, when I get music during the day I prep it to transfer to tankPHONE in an "albums to review" playlist each evening. I figure out the genre and standardize how the music displays as well as ensuring every album has the correct cover. Nerd stuff.

**There are a TON more influences as well, but I've already relied too heavily on "sounds like" terminology, so listen up and figure out your own connections to the rest.

What did I do during my extended holiday weekend?

Here's a shocking answer to the question posited above—not much!

Aside from daily trips to the gym and the store I stayed in for most of the weekend. I did venture out to watch a matinee of Brightburn, but aside from that it was a lot of reading and a lot of catching up on streaming movies and series.* I honestly had to motivation to hit the bar scene, or hunt out a BBQ, or be all that social at all. It was nice to spend a weekend in. Yet another outgrowth of my trend wherein booze is avoided and regular sleeping schedules and daily exercise dominate.

If you had one, how was your holiday weekend?


*So, about Brightburn. The movie is exactly what you'd expect and I enjoyed it, but I went in expecting what I got. It's premise is simple—what if Superman was a bad guy—and its gore is plentiful when it occurs. I can't see this movie making the cut when it comes to a mid-day "there's nothing else on cable" watch, but it was entertaining enough for a single  viewing to see the premise, thin as it may be, play out.

A condensed blast of Tin Machine.

It's common knowledge that I think Bowie's time in Tin Machine is seriously underrated. The first album from the band is celebrating its 30th anniversary this year (I still remember picking up the cassette from Sound Warehouse in high school the day it came out) so hopefully that means some of the material from the time might see a re-release?

My curiosity is piqued because the above compilation video is a new release by the Bowie camp. According to the YouTube description, “To promote the album the band, along with the director Julien Temple, filmed nine riotous performances of songs from the record at the downtown New York City rock club The Ritz, which have remained unreleased commercially until now.“

Now I’m not sure how much of that is true—I’ve definitely seen videos for a few of the songs, and whoever uploaded it couldn’t get their stuff together enough to notice that when they listed the songs included in the video description, they totally forgot to not “Under The God,” the clip that closes out this mini-compilation. So this could just be some social media associate looking for content to fill a possible anniversary and that’s all that it is.

Either way, this material definitely deserves the deluxe reissue treatment. And I know there’s an amazing Chicago show recording that exists out there that caught the band when they were on fire after that debut. So stuff is out there that deserves to see the light of day again (or for the first time).

Roll a twenty-sided die of RAWK with Gygax!

Photo by Cliff Montgomery

Every once in a while a line from a band's PR-approved biography absolutely nails what to expect from them, and in the case of Gygax that line is, "drenched in influence from the likes of Dungeons & Dragons and Thin Lizzy." I admit I haven't dug into their lyrics enough to confirm the first half of that statement, but the fact the group is obviously named after Dungeons & Dragons creator Gary Gygax is enough for me.* And though Gygax characterizes themselves as metal, their music has plenty of heavy groove, swing and soul—along with some killer dueling guitar lines—that firmly supports the later half of that claim.

Gygax's third album, High Fantasy, is out later this June, and the band keeps things admirably tight, delivering 9 songs in just over 30 minutes. This is very much a wham-bam-thank-you-man effort that kicks you in the head from the get-go and leaves you flat on your ass by the final drum fill in the last seconds of the closing track. Through it all there's a melodic approach that makes even the heaviest moments slide down with a satiating sweetness.

Here's the only track they've released publicly thus far, but like I said I've heard the rest so you can click that li'l pre-order button in the player with the knowledge the rest is just as good.



*Since I wrote this initial draft I went back to listen more closely to the lyrics and yup, these dudes love them some swords and sorcery stuff.

2 parts Get Up Kids + 1 part Anniversary + 1 part Gadjits/Architects = 1 massive Radar State.

So let's untangle that faux equation of a headline and clarify that Radar State is made up of The Get Up Kids’ Matt Pryor and Jim Suptic, Josh Berwanger of The Anniversary (who I just recently teased out a new track from), and Adam Phillips of The Gadjits and  The Architects.

Now that that's out of the way.

I saw Radar State a few months ago at Cobra Lounge in a packed room and their show raucous fun. For some reason I didn't write about them back then, but their debut LP Strays recently snuck its way into regular rotation on my playlist, after a brief late-winter hibernation period. I suspect I was saving them for the summer months as far as sharing with you, dear reader, but since summer has still not decisively landed in Chicago I grow short in patience and feel the need to turn you onto the folks today; right now.

The sound is all energetic, classic riffle and sing-along prompts that you'll fall prey to halfway through any given chorus. It's the sound of four people who share enough of a common background to keep things cohesive, but are different enough that none of this sounds like a rehash of their own bands.

They've got no tour dates, but they did play Riot Fest in 2017 (and Riot Fest presented that Cobra Lounge gig I saw), so maybe they can be (or are in the midst of being or have have already been) coaxed back to Chicago by those folks.

Anyway, pretend the warmth of the summer grass is filling your nose as a light breeze plays with your hair and settle in for a good listen. Stream Strays below, and always buy yourself a copy if you like it. (If you wanna go straight to mainline sunshine, skip ahead to "Making Me Feel" (fronted by Berwanger? I'm not sure?). But if you do that, don't be a slouch—rewind to track 1 and play through the whole party.



UPDATE: When I wrote this post it was still dawn and it was chilly and pretty dreary outside. Since then it's turned into a beautiful, warm, and sunny day. I give this album full credit for influencing the weather and turning things around!

Finally catching up.

I swear I actually started writing up my favorite albums of 2018 post. It's not done yet, but at least I got around to it. At this rate The Wrens will have a new album before I end up recapping the 20 albums released last years that kept me afloat!

Thank you for your patience.

Someone I know directed another Juliana Hatfield video!

Photo by Stacee Sledge

I admit I haven’t seen Rachel Lichtman in quite a few years—she left Chicago for warmer, Western climes a while ago—but I’ve really been enjoying her experimental and delightfully quirky films on her Network 77 platform. We ran in the same social circles, but she was always part of the group that was a little above my pay grade when it came to the cool quotient, so it's no surprise she's still kicking out amazing work that is effortlessly, well, cool.

Earlier this year Lichtman received acclaim for her video treatment of "Lost Ship" off Juliana Hatfield's latest (and quite excellent) album Weird. It was dreamy and felt more like a feeling than a story, which suited that song well.

Lichtman and Hatfield collaborated on a second video from the album, and released it today. Whereas their first visual collaboration, "Lost Ship," was more a meditative and stately affair, the new video for "Broken Doll" take a far different route, mood-wise. From the opening introduction courtesy Pat Sansone (who has appeared in previous Network 77 shorts) you kinda have an idea that you're in for something a little (seemingly, but is it really?) lighter this time around. Check it out and you tell me what you think.

Oh yeah, Hatfield is on tour right now and hits Chicago for the outdoor Out Of Space event in Evanston on June 22. It's SUPER sold out—Hatfield is sharing the bill with Liz Phair—but maybe you can find tickets on the resale market if you're really lucky.

Still ramping up.

I’ve listened to more new music this month than I did January through April combined. I liken the feeling to getting your appetite back after you've been rundown with a long illness that killed your desire to consume anything at all because your body can't even muster the energy to process it. May has been a particularly introspective month for me personally, but it's also been the month that I changed my schedule up and instituted some major lifestyle changes that have taken hold in a number of healthy ways.

I'm still working on regaining my old vim and vigor when it comes to music and arts and cultural writing—the last 2 years took a particular emotional toll in that segment of my productivity. While my day-to-day 9-to-5 writing has remained strong I think that's because the section of my brain responsible for that has stayed sharp and focused no matter what my current personal situation has been. In some ways I've probably strengthened that section of output since it both allowed me to be creative and avoid inward thinking. Writing in the service of something outside of you can be really great when you're trying to avoid negative periods in your life.

Anyway, here's a peppy video about "bad vibrations" for you to enjoy off Josh Berwanger's forthcoming album Watching A Garden Die, out June 28. I'll share more on this closer to its release date, but it seemed just the right mixture of upbeat negativity for a Monday morning post built on the self-reflection of rebuilding positivity out of darker times.

The Soft Bulletin was released 20 years ago today…

The Flaming Lips in 1999 looking almost presentable!

Most of you probably didn't hear The Soft Bulletin the day it came out, since the May 17, 1999 release date was for the UK version (the US version, with a slightly different track listing, wasn't released until June 22). It took me a week to finally track down the import version after stalking every indie record shop in Chicago on a daily basis.*

I had heard The Flaming Lips debut their new direction a few months earlier at La Zona Rosa in Austin during SXSW. I believe it was only their second live set as a newly configured trio (they played two days earlier in Dallas as a test run) and they went on well after their supposed 1 a.m. start time. I remember being confused by Steven Drozd being set up behind a bank of keyboards and VCRs. I had heard Zaireeka, but was expecting the band to play as a power trio, full of Wayne Coyne guitar squalls, Michael Ivins thunder bass and Drozd's monster drumming.

That was obviously not what happened.

The trio played three of their older "guitar" songs, reconfigured to match the new aural direction the band was headed, instead relying on one Zaireeka cut and a slew of material no one in the room had ever heard, including "Race For The Prize" and "The Gash." The band was still kicking out psychedelic anthems, but there was a whole new dimension and tenderness that flowed through the new songs that BLEW ME AWAY.

The piece I turned in recapping that year's SXSW for The Chicago Flame isn't online, and one day I'll dig through my hard copy collection of my writing to find it, but I do remember no one in the office believed The Flaming Lips would sound the way I described them. At the time they were still only known to mainstream audiences as the "She Don't Use Jelly" band who appeared briefly on an episode of 90210. And my music friends who had been following the band along with me since the late '80s didn't believe it either.



Obviously The Soft Bulletin is now lauded as a modern classic, and that Austin show I saw bore the genesis of Coyne's turning to theater props to help convey the weight of the music since he no longer had a guitar to bash away at. Back then the DIY stage show aesthetic had always been a part of the band's DNA—their shows were visual spectacles even if it was merely through draping every piece of gear with Christmas lights and setting up a bunch of strobes they carried in themselves—but in The Soft Bulletin era they took the visual component up a notch. And since then have taken it up about 10,482 notches with varying degrees of success.

I'm older, so to me I'll always prefer the albums of the pre-Bulletin Lips when considering my favorite portion of their body of work—it's just the stuff I heard first that hardwired the band into my brain, I'm totally O.K. with folks who only love the era Bulletin kicked off—but I don't think they ever released anything in that period, or are likely to do so in any later period, that caught me so totally off guard and filled me with so much melancholic joy.

*This was back in the days when music wasn't immediately online for bands like the Flaming Lips, so all I had between the show and the album's release was the memory of the music (I hummed the melody of "Race For The Prize" on a daily basis between that March and May, for sure—it was all I had). Yes, Napster and its compatriots were certainly rising, but they were still depending on more mainstream releases pilfered from CD packaging plants and the like to fill their online offerings. The Flaming Lips didn't qualify as a band early pirates felt the need to obtain and disseminate online. Yet.

Checking in.

Looking toward a brighter future!

One year ago today I was in the the hospital because I thought I was having a heart attack. It was the second time in less than a year I found myself in that same emergency room with the same fear that I was surely dying. The first time Mich was by my side, but this time I was totally alone. It turned out my ticker was fine, but my stress levels were through the roof, and they weren't going to come down any time soon. One year later I'm in a much better place, but my life is still far from perfect. Though I do keep a gratitude journal to remind me that good things do happen to me every day.

But I'm still filled with the deepest sadness that I lost her. In the month leading up to her deciding divorce was inevitable I honestly thought I'd be able to turn it around. To my (minor) credit at least I didn't harangue her to change her mind for months on end. I made a few attempts to dissuade her from ending the marriage, but for the most part I accepted her decision.

Maybe somewhere deep inside I was still in denial.* Maybe? I'm sure I was.

A little over a year ago was probably the toughest period of time in my life for a number of reasons I no longer feel the need to rehash. But I do remember it was right about now that the more public-facing evidence of the destruction of my life had started to ebb and I began to focus more on making things right with myself for the sake of my future. (The timing couldn't have been better since I was about to lose my job to a company merger the day after my heart attack scare. What timing!)

I've thinking about the future, and am struck that I am at the almost exact same place I was 20 years ago. 20 years from now I should be ostensibly retiring (though I don't see how that can possibly happen at this point). I thought I led a charmed life, and the fact of the matter is that I really did. And then I squandered it, blew things up, and threw myself all the way back to square one.

Therapy helped me identify a few milestones that led me to where I am now, and of course now that I see them clearly I wish I'd noted those warning signs and adjusted my decisions accordingly. The period between buying our house and the sudden closing of Chicagoist was probably the steepest downward slope that found me skiing out of control and straight into losing the best thing that had happened to me up until that point in my life. Other people probably saw the signs more clearly than me. I remember having a "wake" for Chicagoist at our house and I'm pretty sure most people in attendance could tell something was wrong with my relationship before I did. I was too wrapped up in my own selfishness to truly be able to self-evaluate, that's for sure.

So where am I now? I live across the street from the house we once owned, in an apartment that's too big for a single person—no single dude really needs 3 bedrooms and 2 bathrooms, but I just wanted to move and make it as simple as possible. But it is the right size for me to at least fit all my stuff into instead of renting a storage unit. I've settled down after months of heavy dating—and by that I mean many "getting to know you" dates; this isn't some sort of hook-up humblebrag. I have a nice freelance gig at an agency I really like, but of course would prefer the security of a permanent job. I've made a lot of changes regarding what I eat and drink, along with physical activity, and am enjoying feeling more clearheaded and energetic than I have in far too long. I'm grateful for the friends who stuck around, since I lost most of them during the course of the divorce. I don't blame them, but it still hurt.

There are still a few special people that bring flashes of color to my life when they're around—there's one person in particular that entered my life over the winter that makes me especially happy, and I hope I'm doing the same for her—but for the most part I still feel as if my world has largely turned grey when I'm alone. I suspect it will be for a while longer, and even though it seems like it will never return to the Technicolor glory I enjoyed not all that long ago, I'll keep holding on hoping for that more permanent saturation of color to manifest.

There's really no other choice.

*If we're going by the traditional 5 stages of grief I think it's worth noting I went through all of them except "anger." I'm definitely now in acceptance, but that doesn't mean I'm not still depressed by what happened. I don't think the sad part will ever totally go away.

American Football isn't playing games, they're playing moods.

Photo by Atiba Jefferson

I know it’s gonna sound blasphemous, but I was never a huge American Football fan. That's probably got more to do with timing than anything else since they seem to be fervently adored by folks just a few years younger than me, for the most part. Even though I wasn't following their every move, though, I did enjoy their music.

On their third self-titled album the vibe remains subdued, the lyrics are still introspective, and the song-craft is meticulous as ever. American Football isn't a group about letting loose their inhibitions, they draw inward to create miniature pockets of air intent on unraveling inner mysteries.

The album came out in March but I'm choosing to share this song today because it matches by mood as of late. I wouldn't say the lyrics wholly connect to my actual feelings—though there are snippets of truth in there—but the tone of the song as a whole does. Often I take music as more the whole sound of all its parts rather than dissecting vocal meaning, and this is certainly an instance where that inclination of mine of driving my fondness and finds this song popping u on my daily playlist more often than not.

American Football is on tour now, so if they come through your town you probably want to see them since they said on a recent podcast that this could be the end of the line for the band, at least as far as live shows go.

I'm still "Falling" for Dude York, that's for sure.

Photo by Eleanor Petry

Dude York's new album Falling isn't out until July 26, so you'll have to wait until closer to that date for my full review. What I will say is that the band continues to grow artistically at an astonishing rate.

I was a big fan of 2017's Sincerely, and their Happy In The Meantime EP, released earlier this year, proved the band was moving in a more refined direction. Don't take "refined" as meaning polite or any less urgent than their previous work. Instead the trio has continued to hone their approach, resulting in sharper songs and evolving melodies. The first single "Falling" sees the band working their strengths as Peter Richards' guitar zooms right along as Claire England's vocals twinkle and shine, all driven by Andrew Hall's pop-along drumming.

Stream the single below, and if you like it consider pre-ordering Falling since you'll immediately get a download of the tune to take with you on-the-go.

Get A Life, get a job, get a band.

Photo by Anthony Flores

Get A Life is the one-person band conceived by Chase DeMaster, and his debut This Band Could Be Your Life Or Debt is a lo-fi but engaging listen. Apparently the first song he wrote that ended up sparking the project as a whole was "Get A Job," whose refrain of "I'm going nowhere fast" gives a pretty good idea of the direction of both the song's interests and the album as a whole.

Yuuki Mathews of The Shins produced the album, though to my ears that is more in the interest of connecting a "name" to the release of an unknown indie rock endeavor. Maybe Matthews cleaned things up a bit? From the press release it seems like he may have played more of a mentor / encouraging role than anything else. Whatever—if it helps get the album to more ears then that's a good thing!

Anyway, here's the song that started it all. It looks like Get  Life just wrapped a short tour with TV Girl, but here's hoping they've got something in Chicago coming up since I'm really curious to see how these songs take shape on stage.

Oh, there's the big twist!

Watching a late night host prove to his writers that a bit isn't going to work has never been funnier.

[h/t Slate]

Walking Bicycles return to take you on a dark ride.

Walking Bicycles disappeared from the Chicago scene for five years before returning with last month’s Chooch. In the world of independent rock and/or roll that is an eon and a half. So does this quartet that's been kicking around since 2004 warrant a heralded comeback?

Hell yes.

I was never a close follower of Walking Bicycles—in the Chicago scene I'm not even sure which clan they fell into back when they were active the first time around. I feel like I probably put them on a bill I did at some point in the mid-aughts when I was still actively booking and promoting shows, but they could have been added at the request of one of the other bands. It doesn't really matter. What does matter is that the band as it currently exists is worth your attention.

The music is dark, but it ain't depressing. It just feels like a heavy, warm, wet and woolen blanket is draping the sound and suffocating you with its weight. Singer Jocelyn Summers yelps and sneers throughout the claustrophobic maze of sound as the instruments fight against barriers and attempt to break free. Check out the wandering bass lines that bump up against the guitar drone and waves of drums on "Statutory Basement" for an obvious example of this, though it is a characteristic of the band's sound as a whole.

There is also something refreshingly simple in their approach; in this instance repetition isn't hypnotic as much as it's bracing. So open the hatch, climb down the ladder into Walking Bicycle's subterranean sound, and enjoy the band's unexpected return.

You can catch Walking Bicycles at The Hideout this Friday, May 10, so getcher tickets here.

P

Snowball ii returns with a short blast of new songs (and I want to hear more).

Jackson Wargo of Snowball ii

It's been two years since Snowball ii last released an album, so the arrival of the Eaton Super 10 EP is quite welcome. The Los Angeles-based group is led by  Jackson Wargo, who handles most of the instruments here with the exception of the drums and one of the bass parts. So, much like 2017's Flashes Of Quincy this is largely a one-person affair.

Eaton Super 10's five tracks fly by far too quickly. It's not that they're unusually short, most clock in between 3 to 4.5 minutes so that feels pretty average, but each time the EP ends I find myself wanting more. Opener "What Pressure?" starts off delicately, largely driven by sparse sparkling guitars interrupted by occasional crescendos of noise that mirror the narrator's inner journey. It's rumination that gives way to exclamation, and it's a slightly more nuanced approach than much of Snowball ii's previous work.

From the point on we're back in more familiar territory, with guitars courting melodies that sway back and forth between sweet and slinking atonality that never grows jarring. Listen to the dazed-n-confused guitars winding their way through "The Air In The Mean Time" and you'll see what I'm talking about.

"Lost in Juarez" flirts with shoe gaze tropes without ever tripping over them, before depositing us in the soft borderline psychedelia of "Spring Breaks Eternal," another sonic departure from the band's past. Don't get. Too cozy though, closer "Which Way To The Egress?" ensures you leave Snowball ii's latest collection in a wash of sonic fury.

Eaton Super 10 is currently available to stream or download for free (see below), although if you like what you hear it's always a good idea to throw a band a little dough through ye olde Bandcamp interface. Sadly it looks like the band never really gets far from California tour-wise, which is a real bummer because I bet these songs slay live.

Check out some sunny, buzzy, wistful pop from The Beths.

Photo by Mason Fairey

I think for the rest of the week I'm going to highlight songs or albums that are setting my mood on "summer."

I got a text from a friend yesterday asking if I'd heard of New Zealand band The Beths. I admitted I hadn't and then did a quick search through my email to discover I'd actually been sent their 2018 release Future Me Hates Me earlier this year ahead of a U.S. tour. And somehow I totally missed it, which has me kicking myself in the seat of my pants twice as hard since bands from New Zealand don't exactly hit Chicago all that regularly.*

In case you couldn't tell form the "kicking myself" aside, The Beths are pretty great, ergo my despair at missing their Chicago stop last March. Future Me Hates Me is an effortlessly buzzy collection whose music lifts you up even as the introspective lyrics pull you down. Singer Elizabeth Stokes has the kind of delivery that is world weary without being sad. Her delivery is understated and conversational, drifting along atop melodies I can only describe as melancholic rays of summer sunshine.

I shouldn't even say this since I tend to avoid the whole "so-and-so sounds like" or "RIYL" shorthand—outside of social media teasers where I'm trying to get someone to read a longer piece—but I'll just put this out there. Stokes' style of delivery is rather reminiscent of Courtney Barnett. I do not say this to diminish her talents or set them up for comparison. Instead I mention it because it's incredibly hard to make lyrics sophistication sound so effortless. So if that shorthand gets just a few more people to give the album a listen than I am happy to employ it.



*Luckily I, and quite possibly you, will get another chance to catch The Beths since they announced a summer U.S. tour. It hits Chicago's Logan Square Arts Festival on June 30 (my birthday!).

Let's get started again, set the clocks at the same time.

Clearly I have decided not to shutter the site. After getting feedback from friends and readers I think it's time to ramp things up again and return to your regularly scheduled weekday posting. A couple other changes in my life have me feeling back on track (I can NOT stress enough how resetting a regular sleep and gym schedule helps with mental acuity and physical energy) so I'm ready to get back at it. It's been a really challenging year-and-a-half, and I still have a lot to work through and put to rest, but I'm in a much happier place now. And that also means I feel creatively inspired, which is good for everyone.

So let's go!



[Title of this post courtesy Frisbie, as you can hear above.]

Just what I needed.

I previewed Partner's EP and their upcoming show at The Hideout this Sunday evening. If you need a pick-me-up like I do (or are just in the mood for some dang fine hooks) then you should check them out.