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I always laugh when Canadian bands say their music is any sort of “Americana”. Why must we associate such rootsy music with the United States? We shouldn’t tie music of the folk persuasion to just one nation. And Canada has such vibrant folk talents that referring to the music as “Americana” feels almost offensive. After all, Neil Young is from Toronto!

Speaking of which: Also hailing from Toronto is the subject of this article, folk trio theCrates, who released their debut album Things We’ve Done back in May. It has a touch of Neil Young’s grunge, but also Whiskeytown’s twang, the power of The Gaslight Anthem, and Bruce Springsteen’s full-band-focused songwriting. The album’s eleven tracks were released one by one over the course of three years, with an original version getting sidelined due to Covid. But theCrates didn’t let time stop them from finding the music and putting it to tape.

On taking their time, the band says, “From the start, we wanted an album. That’s always been the end goal. We’re older heads, grew up listening to albums of all kinds, and knew that we had enough songs to make a cohesive album that told a story and had a specific feel.” The trio spent two days each recording most of the songs on the album, doing what they could with their available time and money.

And although the trio mentions that their piecemeal process kept them from fine tuning everything, they say “so it goes, the art of imperfection”. If there are any issues on the record, I certainly don’t hear them. The passion of making the music and the urgency of their environment are both prevalent on Things We’ve Done. The crystal clear production comes from Made Human Studios in Toronto run by Jon Lillo, along with enginners such as Harjeet Pabla and Lukas Guyader.

The final result is an album of crisp all-Canadian alt-country, with a thorough sound the whole way through, even if each song makes minor variations. For example, “By Sunday” is a down-home hoedown of a romp, with frantic guitars and distorted vocals that justify a stomp-clap, whereas “Saving Grace” brings a little Southern rock energy (in which “Southern” relates to the swampy Southern U.S., and not the southern tip of Ontario.) “Only One” slows things down for a grungy ballad, and “Hits Like a Heartache” kind of has a little of The Hold Steady in it, making it a solid straightforward alt-rock anthem.

But despite the variations on the Americana — er, Canadiana — style, each band member’s energy shines both on its own and as part of theCrates’ unit. Michael Powell’s vocals ring on each track, whether they force themselves out from his throat with grit or hang high in the air with smooth and soulful passion. And while his guitar keeps time, Javier Plana (on bass) and Shawn Willings (drums) are right there to hold up the rhythm, providing delicious harmonies to give the album a well-rounded sound.

The title track is surely one for a sing-along, and pays into the “We’ll do it live” vibe of the record. None of the songs feel overwrought or produced to death. theCrates laid down their tracks how they would play them live, the engineers gave them a little touch-up, and that was that, as the band didn’t have many resources to do much more. But they didn’t need to worry about that. The recorded natural urge to play their music is what makes this album so lovely to hear. It’s an album of tracks from musicians who know their craft, who simply enjoy playing tunes with each other rather than worrying about making something for mass consumption. And again, if there are any imperfections, I would argue the album is better off because of them.

Something to note: Our fellow writer Kinda Grizzly runs a creative community known as Black Rainbow Collective, which you’ve likely seen mentioned in graphics around the Start-Track website. theCrates are part of this collective, and so we’re very happy to feature them in order to show off the Start-Track/Black Rainbow Collective synchronicity.

In any case, theCrates’ Things We’ve Done proves a few things. One: You don’t need to worry too much about imperfections if you have faith in your abilities as a musician, your closeness as a band, and your passion to put the music out there. Two: You can take your time releasing an album, just as you can exercise patience producing any work of art; not everything needs to be rushed-out slop for the masses. And three, although many, many others have proven it before: Canadians are just as good – if not better! – as American musicians at writing Americana. Take that, Nashville.

Written by Will Sisskind

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Perhaps you were hip to the Canadian indie-pop scene, but then took a break from listening to Canadian music for some reason. You may have returned years later to ask, “Hey, whatever happened to that cool Montreal band, Alpha & The Van?” Well, the four members of the band now play under a new name – Amber Days – and have released their new “debut” album, On The Run.

Why the quotation marks, you ask? As Alpha & The Van, the band released a good amount of music between 2017 and 2021, including their 2019 LP Propeller and the 2020 single “Four Months”, the latter of which would go on to appear as On The Run‘s fourth track. In 2024, they officially changed their moniker to Amber Days, feeling the name better represented their sonic and visual aesthetic. They also put out “I Wonder How It Feels” that same year, which was a preview for the new music of On The Run: Warm, jazzy, swimming in nostalgic funk sound. Further singles “1974”, “All These Dreams”, “On My Own”, and “Blueberries” followed in the following months, during which Amber Days continued to performance and work on other music.

So it’s not like the name change came from a long hiatus or a shake-up in the band’s roster. In fact, throughout On The Run, the quartet sounds as tight as ever. They are Mario Gervais (guitar/vox), Alexy Préfontaine a.k.a. aeforia (keys/vox/art direction), Samuel Jalbert (drums/vox), and Vincent Dessureault (bass). And with almost a decade of experience playing together in the Montreal and greater Québec circuit, they’ve put everything in their arsenal into the new album: All the energy, the groove, and the uplifting sound palette they’ve compiled over the years.

But On The Run is – in part – an album about change, which fits the choice to take on a new band name. It’s beyond change, even: It’s about evolution. The lead track “Present Tense” is about letting the past stay in the past, living in the moment, and appreciating the beauty of life and its endless possibilities. But evolution is not such an easy process, as the band state on “Blueberries”: “I’ve been on the run, tryin’ to figure it out / But where am I to go? I’ve been feeling low.” The album captures the whole journey from past to present: The search for meaning, the uncertainty, the need for acceptance, the moment of self-realization, and the daring to live fully and open ourselves up to love.

The album’s structure somewhat shapes this journey. “Present Tense” starts things off with a burst of warped sound, as if we are entering our souls for meditation. “1974” jettisons us into a funky land which captures the analog tape-drenched saturation of yesteryear, which symbolizes the fleeting past. Those funky sounds stick around through “You’re the One” and “Four Months”, slowing down when we get to “Blueberries”, the de facto end of the first half (and also, the most reflective point) of the record.

“All These Dreams” kicks off Side 2 by getting back into the funk, with a lyrical manifesto to try and chase new dreams, no matter the struggle. “Generation” and “On My Own” follow; the latter song features a guitar and bass so funky that it blew up across Québec and Europe, passing the 10,000 stream milestone in just two weeks. The songs capture the anxiety of the current major generations and the constant search for perfection, looking for the missing piece that will make everything fall into place. The instrumental “Exit 95” leads into “Neon Moon”, a slowed-down jam with blissed-out synths and vibes that captures the feeling of drifting, whether it’s back to the beginning of one’s spiritual journey or simply in the middle of the void.

To wrap things up, the band ends with an album remix of “I Wonder How It Feels”, summarizing the album’s themes of wanting peace among chaos and confusion. The song makes it clear that it’s speaking of inner peace, questioning why people seek it from outside sources instead of digging deep: “Everybody wants peace / Why do I search outside? / Why don’t I close my eyes?” It’s funky, meditative, and a surefire crowd pleaser. (I’m sure it’s difficult to access the inner spirit and become one with your soul while you’re dancing to this number. But I won’t stop you from trying; in fact, I’m right there with you.)

On The Run is a wonderful “debut”, in that it showcases the first grand release under the longtime Montreal band’s new identity. It covers the restlessness everyone has in searching for the next best thing, which they feel will fill them with enlightenment and show them the answer to life. But sometimes, it doesn’t take much to spiritually level up. Maybe you keep jamming and hanging out with your friends, but you change your band name and throw a little more funk into your guitar technique. For Amber Days, it seems that’s all it took to get the metaphysical and musical juices flowing.

Written by Will Sisskind

P.S.: Please consider donating to our blog. Originally published on our blog.

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Existential, sudden dread is the latest from Albany, New York-based shoegaze band Senior Living. Self described with punky tinges, I’d say any one-liner trying to describe them would fall short; they dabble in much more than that. From the first song (the title track), we see remnants of that distant-mixed screaming that defined much of emo in the last decade: That chest-full, untrained, but nonetheless gritty type of screaming that could only carry the two most harrowing lines of lyrics you’ll never forget. The twin guitars on the first track work almost symbiotically, but their relationship will change along the duration of the project. I can distinctly refer to this project to anyone who feels most of the scope on emo revival ranges only as far back as the 2000s.

The second track, “in this”, changes its barrels quite a bit, in favor of a simple single note riff that reels you in before dialing up the haze. It’s grungier than the rest of the project, with even the screams being less title fight and more. It’s an undoubtedly fun track, and I feel more in that mid-tempo, even slowing down after the first two sections to offer something you could absolutely jump and holler to. Ending on a chord that leaves it all sounding ambiguous, “in this” takes a different approach to the formula of mono guitar for one bar before crashing the whole band into the listener, with a penchant for riffs you can actually mosh to for a lil’.

“Oasis” slows down alongside a tired voice. A very characteristic and very Haas vocal effect walks the track right until a piercing harmonic breaks the calm and launches us back into the familiar grunge-gaze sound the band offers on this project. “Flower shielding” sees the voice shedding the effects to speak directly at you. It’s maybe my favorite off the EP.

By the time I arrived at “juulia child”, I was glad to find something here that I found on a lot of good contemporary entries in the genre. I’d talked before about “amalgamation emo” before, where bands that had access to a full catalogue of many iterations of the waves of emo mix in calling cards and trademarks of each, resulting in interesting mixes and more a feeling of a lived-in genre instead of a space with rigid walls. I’d often see it contained to singular songs or examples, but on existential, sudden dread, we see it exist across the entire project, allowing for each song to carve out its own identity.

There are full servings of grunge present here, in a way where I could actually see them playing back then, and not just taking notes from the time period. It unashamedly walks into ’90s Foo Fighters territory, especially from the time it was obvious the rhythm section was swiped from Sunny Day Real Estate. While true to dreamier sensibilities, it never fully compounds its own personality out of the equation in favor of vibes or texture, perhaps best exemplified by a voice that still carries presence and personality alongside the instruments, and not despite it.

The EP is, at the end of the day, a recollection of new songs alongside familiar faces from the band, with “Flower shielding” even hailing from its own self-titled EP, released in April.

Written by Charlotte Lacambra

P.S.: Please consider donating to our blog. Originally published on our blog.

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Amidst all the usual pomp and circumstance leading up to the Fourth of July this year, The Royal Firecrackers dropped their first album, American Royal. Apropos of the name, the record comes in burnt orange packaging that suggests a clear-eyed aesthetic and a penchant for design. Yes, the artifact itself is quite beautiful. And while the band name may invoke the patriotic imagery of the holiday and its requisite spectacle, the individual tracks reveal a much more apocalyptic image of a country in existential crisis and an empire in its waning days.

Seattleite Greg Franklin fronts The Royal Firecrackers and has played in several bands, including local acts like Black Whales. With this project, however, Franklin turns his focus to songwriting and honing his own sound. Traces of Typhoon and Coconut Records come through in the album, but you can also hear echoes of early Death Cab for Cutie, especially the albums that predate Ben Gibbard’s obsession with traversing the Atlantic and renaming the glove compartment. These songs carry the torch of an earlier era in indie rock, one that leans heavily on ready-made guitar hooks and propulsive drums.

The opening track, “Cheers to Cosmopolitan,” is one of my favorites on the album. Minor chords abound as Franklin sings, “Cryptic apocalypse, streaming live from a sinking ship,” alluding to the cataclysmic state of climate change and global politics. The pop melody eventually descends into instrumental chaos that includes brass and plenty of distorted guitars, a fitting conclusion for what we might call end times rock (think Phoebe Bridgers’ “I Know the End” or even MJ Lenderman’s “Wristwatch”). “Dark Age,” too, takes on a similar tone, beginning as a minimalist ballad before a range of sonic layers–including drums and various synth pads–come in and transform the song into something more monumental in scope.

Later on, “Medicine Lodge” incorporates some familiar tropes from Americana, successfully bringing this pop sensibility to bear on the midwestern sound of towns like Kansas City, where Franklin grew up. Some slide guitars punctuate the track, and the brass returns to complete the aesthetic. Medicine Lodge, it turns out, is a city in Kansas, but here, the melody uses the western landscape as a backdrop. The opening lines refer to settling down in a “ghost town” before describing a “caravan to the western territory” and “hopes of a new frontier.” The lyrics draw effectively on the multivalent imagery of westward expansion, revealing an incisive craftsmanship and maturity in the songwriting.

The final songs return us to the bread and butter of the record: indie rock hooks and dynamic arrangements that beg the audience to sing along. In “Toasters on Broadway,” Franklin sings, “When you’re bored and young, chaos is a welcome energy,” like a world-weary veteran no longer in the throes of youth. This is a recognizable sentiment for a musician who has spent well over a decade playing in various bands.

It is clear that those decades have culminated in a debut album that is wise beyond its years. In addition to the record, Franklin has posted multiple music videos. I have included links below, one of which is to the “Medicine Lodge” video that transposes an image of the performer onto refracted footage of the plains and other western imagery. If you have the time, it is worth tunneling into the rich visual aesthetics of this project. Regardless, I recommend throwing this record on to soundtrack your summer. You will not regret it.

Written by SilenceKid

P.S.: Please consider donating to our blog. Originally published on our blog.

Devised as an accompaniment to Issue 4 of the Kitty Kant Zine, Compilation Volume 2 is full of amazing artists, and is an inspiring example of the beautiful things that people can create when they work together.

The compilation gets off to a tremendous start, opening with the bubbling and brooding — but also rather spikey and sinister-feeling — “Cops vs. Kids” from New York City trio The Life of Mars. Like Modest Mouse collaborating with The Hold Steady on a cover of Pavement song, this is angular, jaunty and atmospheric. The Life on Mars specialises in wonky, lo-fi, garage-rock, and post-punk, and on this track alone you can also hear influences from acts like Wire, Heatmiser, Sonic Youth, and The Velvet Underground. As far as opening tracks go, this bodes very promising for the rest of the compilation.

Nashville trio Palm Ghosts follow with their tune “Influencia”. With a distinct blend of indie, post-punk, and new wave, their vibe is dark and classy. The instrumentation is excellently executed and the production is, frankly, astonishingly good. Sounding at various points like early Vaccines, The National, U2, Bloc Party, The Courteeners, and peak-Kings Of Leon, this is an incredibly effective fusion. A potent blend of familiar elements but with a distinctly personal stamp, their sound has obviously been honed from years of practice (the band have been around since 2014, after all) and they clearly know what they’re doing. More of the same, please.

The fantastically named Marley Wildthing is up next with a demo version of her song “Rodeo”. An artist and multi-instrumentalist from Austria based between Vienna and Prague, her sound incorporates little bits of lots of other artists. We hear Kate Bush, Joanna Newsome, Martha Wainwright, Jenny Lewis and The Watson Twins, and even Sabrina Carpenter in this piece. Full of personality, charm, and ambiance, Marley builds worlds with her sound, creating an environment in which you find yourself wanting to bed down, get cosy, and stay a while. Hell, we might never leave.

At the complete opposite end of the musical spectrum you’ll find the Tallinn-based quartet Avemaria and their live rendition of “Hardstail”. Opening with an epic isolated guitar, it’s quickly joined by some gargantuan, almost-operatic female vocals and music that sound like a mixture of post-punk and European folk. The rhythm fluctuates and the pace quickens before coming to an abrupt halt and picking up again. There is even a moment where it takes a reggae-infused left turn. All in all, it’s a heavy-hitting post-punk tune with undertones of ska and folk. If Siouxisie Sioux ever worked with Gogol Bordello, it might sound something like this.

“Lucky Ones” by Brooklyn band Smoltz begins with guitar chords that remind us of Sonic Youth. The intro is choppy, loose and free spirited. Then it kicks in and everything gets — for want of a better expression — dirty as fuck. A fuzzy J. Mascis lead tone cuts through the noise with the backing sounding distinctly indebted to the ’90s. Roll grunge, shoegaze, punk and alt-rock into one, and you’ve pretty much got the sound of this song. Whilst undeniably old-school leaning, the quartet reminds us a lot of more modern bands like Yuck, Planet Waves, DIIV, Cold Comforts, and Lozenge, and – taking this song as evidence alone – they are one of the best doing it right now.

Reverse Machine is the solo musical pseudonym of Estonia-based Zaur Babayev. Originally from Azerbaijan and now residing in Tallinn, he makes a unique fusion of alternative rock and electronica. “Mouth Issues” is about trying to succumb to desire and enjoy closeness, but the conflict that comes with knowing that it’s not real. The music reflects the complicated feelings, the internal battle, the feeling of striving for something. It’s the soundtrack to wondering why we do what we do. It’s frantic, feverish, and excited, but also anxious, confused, and foreboding. Somehow, it sounds like how one might feel in the situation described above. This is a carefully considered and excellently crafted piece of work.

Up next is friend of the label Greg Gobel, who is of course a songwriter and musician, but who also moonlights as an author on our blog. “Track Mud On Someone’s Carpet” is a rootsy, rollicking, hopped up hybrid psych-folk tune. Well, it starts that way, but it eventually descends into full-blown punktry (punk + country, naturally) chaos. Originally from Cleveland, Ohio and now living in Prague (quite the upgrade, we imagine), the unmistakable, unshakeable Americana vibe bleeds through instantly, but it is warped and mangled almost beyond recognition. The song is literally about making a mess, being authentic and true to yourself, and not conforming to others expectations of what you should be. We reckon Greg’s got it down.

Up next are another Tallinn-based band. Cottonmouth are a quartet who — we’re told — specialise in rock music, but their song that’s included here — “Поток” (or “Current” in English) — is folky, downtempo, and dark. In the context of this compilation, it acts as a distinct — and rather timely — change of pace. Eerie and atmospheric, it has a very specific sonic palette — deep bass, bright acoustic guitar, ethereal vocals, echoey and pared-back percussion — that paints a vivid soundscape. The mood is sorrowful, ghostly, and pensive; the identity of the tack is established from the very first notes and carries confidently throughout.

Another Prague-based act, hard rock quartet Deaf Heart — with their song “Carved in Stone” — acts as a defibrillator blast after the serenity of the last track. Hyper distorted guitars, thunderous drums, and dirty bass come together to musically punch you square in the face. Full of attitude and conviction, this really is Rock Music in the truest sense of the term. But there’s also a very modern electronic undertone that’s hard to put your finger on. It almost feels like a touch of Pendulum, Strange Bones, or The Prodigy has been thrown in there somewhere. Fundamentally, it’s the sound of boisterous rock buoyed by layers of digital dirt. The two work wonderfully together to make for a tune that you’re not likely to forget anytime soon.

Boulder, Colorado’s Cloud Physics (the musical nom de plume of songwriter and producer Kyle York) is up next with an instrumental piece entitled “Geese Flying Overhead”. Well, it’s instrumental if you don’t count the squawking of geese as singing. The song is seemingly an electronic patchwork of field recordings (the aforementioned birds), synths, and careful production. The resulting tune is an ambient work that feels like being dropped into somewhere else. According to the little info we have on the artist, “the music aims to create distinct, self-contained aesthetic worlds within each composition.” He certainly nailed the brief on this one.

Prague-based duo Pig Lipstick were originally formed in Nashville in 2024. Having upped and settled in Czechia, they have continued making their distinct brand of rock music on this side of the pond. Full of what the Americans call “piss and vinegar”, their music is raw, rowdy, and riotous. “Thin Skin” is a great example. Pounding and propulsive, it feels anthemic, authentic, and self-assured. Musically made up solely of drums and guitar, the duo follow into the footsteps of electrifying acts like Dolls, The Pearl Hearts, Royal Blood, and The White Stripes, and they prove that a smaller band does not equate to a weaker one. It’s quite the opposite, in fact. Consider Pig Lipstick a force to be reckoned with.

From the beautiful Estonian city of Viljandi comes the psychedelic alt-folk/rock duo Araukaaria, with their 2025 single “What Makes Us?” Coming across like a blend of Pink Floyd at their most beguilingly scenic, the spirit of Pentangle, and the artistic ambition of Radiohead, the band are evidently experts at sonic world-building. Big and brooding, over the course of the song’s five minutes, they ask some pretty huge questions. Most pertinently: “What makes us who we are?” We can’t help but wonder about the old “nature vs. nurture” debate. We come to the conclusion that some questions are so daunting that they’ll likely never be answered. But Araukaaria certainly give it a good go, and thoroughly entertain us as they ponder.

Started way back in 2003 in Tucson, Arizona, and now based in Brooklyn, New York, we’re told that Golden Alphabet exists in various guises and configurations, from solo venture to open collective to a classic quintet. On “If You Think, You’re Insane”, the four current musicians meld together to create something quite stunning. Warm, rootsy and earnest, the track brings to mind the work of classic American songwriters like Elliott Smith, Jeff Tweedy, and Conor Oberst. The choice of instruments and the way they combine is absolutely breathtaking, to put it mildly. Particular highlights amongst the mélange of sound are the harmonica, woodwinds, keys, and strings. (At least, that’s what we think we’re hearing, since the sounds mesh together so well!)

Hailing from the Krkonoše Mountains (the highest range in the Czech Republic, don’t you know!) is Tomáš Toman with his beautiful ballad “Neznámá Ze Sudet”. We’re reliably informed that the title translates to “The Unknown Woman of the Sudeten”. Towards the end of the song, Tomáš is joined by a female vocalist, and I like to think that their story ends happily. Musically, the song is dominated by a clean electric guitar which comes across as gentle and tender, with production that recalls the best work of Daniel Lanois. (It’s perhaps even on par with his work on Bob Dylan’s Oh Mercy!) The guitar is joined by what sounds like a cello towards the end, adding glorious depth and gravity to a song that was already good, elevating it to great.

Cloud Physics’ Kyle York returns as his Pink Soda alter-ego for this next song, “Citydog”. Described by the artists as a blend of synthpop, alternative, and EDM, you can see what he means, but we’d also add indie to the list. Where his last piece felt experimental and off-kilter, this one feels more approachable and traditional. This is probably due — at least in part — to the overall absence of geese and the use of easily identifiable instrumentation (namely an electric guitar). “Citydog” is an infectious almost-funky instrumental tune that feels a bit like RJD2 mixed with Curtis Plum. Endearingly honest and unassuming, it feels like a labour of love and reminds us of the charming early work of Hot Chip and maybe even a touch of Nile Rodgers. We can see it used in a scene in some kind of cool-as-fuck indie film.

Up next is the fantastically named Past This Line Lies Newport, “a real band named after a real town”. The “band” is actually entirely the work of one man. Saint Paul resident Vernon Mahoney started the project back in 2015, but plays songs that go all the way back to 2007. Falling somewhere between punk, anti-folk and pop-punk, Short Sleeves feels like a combination of Kimya Dawson, Less Than Jake and Goldfinger. Snotty, spunky and spirited, but also undeniably tender and thoughtful, it feels like a lot is at play here. Regret, longing and introspection come together and are presented in such a way that you might not realise how soul-baring it all is. Therein lies the expertise, you see. Bravo Mr. Mahoney.

We return to Tallinn for the penultimate track: A version of the song “Evening” recorded live at The Art Of Mosh festival performed by Valp[B] and featuring Gleb. A combination of slowcore, noise rock, post-punk, ambient, and spoken word, it feels a bit like sonic warfare or a call to arms. (Albeit an insidious one, passed from soldier to soldier through IRL whispers and in shadowy corners of dark, hushed, smoke-filled rooms.) Of course, I could be way off. It could be a lullaby for princesses or a thinkpiece about ponies. But I reckon that you don’t need to understand the language to feel the vibe. This feels rebellious, fiery, soulful, and authentic to the n-th degree.

The last track here comes courtesy of a band who previously plied their trade in the bustling world famous music scene in Athens, Georgia. Now residing in Prague, The Winter Sounds have crafted a perfect little piece of pop rock. Clocking in at an ideal 3:12, the demo of Green Snow is better than most bands finished articles. It’s more than a bit punky: There’s definitely some post-punk in there, some noticeable indie influences, and even a bit of electronica. It all comes together to make something reminiscent of acts as varied as Gang Of Four, Friendly Fires, Passion Pit, and Death Cab For Cutie. It’s got fantastic energy, interesting instrumentation, brilliant dueling vocals, and irresistible melodies, and really, what more do you need?

And that concludes our track-by-track assessment of the new Kitty Kant Collective compilation. I don’t feel this way often, but I can honestly say that my life has been enriched by hearing this album and we hope that you’ll feel the same way. Now the anxious wait for Volume 3!

Written by Kinda Grizzly

P.S.: Please consider donating to our blog. Originally published on our blog.

It’s a hot and humid night on the south-east coast of England. We’re in the garden of the venue, bar, recording studio and former hotel known as The Albion Rooms. Belonging to The Libertines, the space itself instantly garnered cult-like status, due in no small part – no doubt – to its owners, which caused quite the buzz before it even opened its doors. Its tiny basement venue, The Wasteland, is our destination for the night.

On the table adjacent to us sits maverick musician and alt-folk anti-hero Lupen Crook and his artistic and romantic partner Willow Vincent. Like us, they are enjoying the elongated day and the slowly encroaching night – it just so happens to be the Summer Solstice.

In due course and with the remains of the day still just about lingering up above, the pair take to the stage. Lupen toting his signature 12-string Gibson (strung up like a 6 string, with half a dozen missing) and Willow playing an Omnichord, of all things. (I don’t think I’ve ever seen one in real life!)

Opener “WMLN” is delicate and measured and feels at first glance like traditional English folk: Breezy, whimsical, and earnest. Listen in though, and it becomes apparent that it’s a tale of despair, desolation, and desperation. With lyrics like “This could be a really great depression / if I could spend it with you” and references to The Velvet Underground, its warmth and artistic vision is undeniable. The room is pin-drop quiet, and as the song grows larger and more buoyant – thanks to Willow’s Omnichord, which sounds like an accordion mixed with a Rhodes piano – it feels absolutely majestic. With only around twenty lucky people in the room, this feels like a real moment, shared lovingly between privileged souls and kindred spirits.

The next song – “Rolling Stones” – is made from much the same stuff. Observational lyrics come across as potently poetic and anything but prosaic. The song is striking in its stark, soulful beauty. “Like rolling stones up a hill”, he sings, and his distinctive voice sounds better than it ever has, like there’s been real evolution there (although, in fairness we haven’t seen him live for 15 years, so that’s more than understandable). The song borrows a line from AC/DC: “It’s a long way to the top if you wanna rock and roll”. But it feels much more like The Decemberists, or more specifically, the songwriting prowess of their frontman Colin Meloy, if he was English rather than American.

Speaking of Englishness, up next is “People’s Prayer”. Lupen introduces it as a song about “living on this strange island”. Painting vivid pictures with his words, he sings about drinking, freezing, churches, war graves, butchers, crows, and more. It’s at the same time haunting and charming. Dark, foreboding, and enchanting, it feels cinematic and scenic. You can imagine it playing over a final scene of a gritty British drama. This is powerful, impactful stuff.

Another new song follows (we’re told the set is made up mostly of them). “FOOL” is gentle and lilting, cautious and characterful. We’ve always thought of Lupen Crook’s music as unconventionally beautiful and wonderful, but an acquired taste, perhaps. This new stuff seems quite the opposite. You struggle to fathom how this music could not be universally loved, lauded, and appreciated. With his capo on his fifth fret, the overall tone of this song is higher and lighter than those that have preceded it. Willow is more animated on this one, contributing more than she has thus far and adding a layer of depth that these songs clearly value. It also contains the lyrical highlight of the night: “I sleep with the same ghosts that stained Tracey Emin’s bed linen”.

He introduces the next song with the externalised thought “I think this song is about self-help”. Cats For The Cure is built around a muted, grungey sounding chugging strumming pattern. Willow changes instruments and adds colour and texture with her microKORG synthesiser. For the most part the song doesn’t deviate much from the main motif and feels more like a mantra than music, but eventually, it bursts into life, freeing itself from its self-imposed shackles. “All of my friends are cats for sure” goes the last line…

“SATELLITES” begins with the line “I’ll never make the rent”, which is a struggle I’m sure a lot of us can appreciate. We’re reminded of “Mother’s Little Helper” by the line “I told the doctor please, gimme more of these”, as later he sings of satellites falling from the sky, stars shining, drinking wine, and getting married. Again, it feels like the precision with which he builds worlds is almost overwhelming. “Jesus weren’t a saviour – just a Pagan on the run”, he croons and – not for the first time – we marvel at his artistic ability.

Up next is an older one. “The Dirty Mile” is formed around a lovely, delicate arpeggio and a small selection of chords. It’s the kind of song that needs no more. With a classic chord progression paired with a perfectly measured vocal performance, it’s captivating and compelling. He’s an artist that’s nigh on impossible to equate to another. We’re reminded again of the more macabre moments of The Decemberists’ catalogue, perhaps blended with the overall tone of Graham Coxon’s acoustic stuff and Syd Barrett at his most palatable. None of these comparisons quite do this justice though. Willow really lets loose on this one, making sounds like possessed stringed instruments being played whilst falling tumbling down into a poisoned well.

“If You Love Me Come The Morning” is the next song, and is subtle musically but striking lyrically. “If you love me come the morning, when I am leather-faced”, he croons, before moving on to comparing his eyes to plums and referring to himself as a bastard. Again, the chord progressions feel classic, almost Ray Davies-esque, or perhaps reminiscent of Conor Oberst’s writing circa I’m Wide Awake, It’s Morning. He pours his heart and soul into the delivery and holds the room in the palm of his hands.

He sings about a “bleak midwinter in July” on the next song which feels familiar and comforting, like a warm duvet or an old thick jumper. He refers to “Eerie England” (the title of the tune) and laments how “there are no more heroes, as far as I can see”. We’re further reminded of the Great British lineage of songs to which he deftly continues to add.

“Where The Crow Flies” is the set closer and is sparse as it begins. It feels sinister, as many moments before it have, but also eminently beguiling. The strumming pattern on this one is interesting: Crook flits between long, wide, sweeping strums and finger picking. Lyrically and melodically it feels a bit like a nursery rhyme blended with a traditional folk song, fused with a cautionary tale. “Stay young, shine bright, kill crows” goes the most memorable line.

The small but appreciative crowd bay for more and the duo willingly oblige. They perform one additional unnamed tune which we’re told isn’t a good closing song, but we’ll gladly, giddily take it. It’s as perfectly poised as the rest of the set has been with a fine balance of light and shade, distinct peaks and troughs and roller coaster dynamics. It’s amazing how much the pair can conjure with so few components. Lupen sings about a character who “wears a leather veil” and who “wakes with a smile coz she knows that love is real”, which sounds really sweet and saccharine, but we can promise you it is absolutely not. Dark and brooding, it feels almost hypnotic and intoxicating and, as the set comes to a close, we really wish that it wouldn’t.

What a night! In what was only about 50 minutes, we feel like we’ve been on a journey over oceans and through skies, round the corner and round the bend. Praise be to whoever you chose to worship: It seems there’s a new Lupen Crook record on the horizon and it can’t come soon enough.

Written by Black Rainbow Collective

P.S.: Please consider donating to our blog. Originally posted on the blog.

This post was selected for Substack as the most popular on our main blog in recent times.

I’ve been thinking a lot about the first summer I spent in New York. I might have written about that ad nauseam here. Sorry if so. But it was a good time, 2011: The middle of Obama’s first term, America on the economic upswing, and even though I had just about fifteen dollars in my wallet, everything felt colorful, cinematic, sensational. There was passion, possibility, power! And yet, because my frontal lobe hadn’t fully formed and I was living in an eighty-square-foot studio, I was so sad all the time.

So I was listening to a lot of artsy indie bands, because I was on Tumblr and the hipster groove was in full swing, and I so desperately wanted to feel like I was part of the club. (And you know what? I still do. Shut up.) I had Animal Collective, Tame Impala, and Vampire Weekend in the main rotation, with a little LCD Soundsystem, Art Brut, and Cloud Nothings thrown in for good measure. There was some Bon Iver, The National, and The War on Drugs, some Sunny Day Real Estate and Beach House, a touch of Alt-J, a dash of MGMT, and The Strokes, of course, because no NYC indie dork’s iTunes library was complete without The Strokes.

And now that I’ve buried the lede, you may ask: What does any of this have to do with star gazing iris, the project of NYC-based musician, writer, and photographer Matt Livick? Well, his debut album places makes me feel wistful for listening to all of those artists during that first summer in New York even more. Look here: I’m in my mid-thirties, I’m married, I have a house (which I technically rent but whatever), I have a day job that pays the bills, and I get to write about music from time to time. Life — at least on a personal level — is pretty good. So why in the world would I enjoy listening to music that makes me feel like I’m wandering around Grand Central at two in the morning with my headphones jams into my ears trying to figure out my life’s purpose?

Well, because any other music would feel boring. That’s why star gazing iris sticks with me: It scratches the same spot in my brain that my early-2010s playlists did. Livick shows off a vocal range that starts at a baritone croon and shoots into the stratosphere like a modern-day Roy Orbison, and he layers his voice on top of itself to create some crystalline harmonies. Those make a delicious pair with his mix of synths and guitars, creating an atmospheric indie rock sound both nostalgic and present, but altogether gorgeous. Livick’s music gets rhythm from Jake Reed on drums and Alex Newport on bass, and Leo Abrahams provides additional guitars for extra sonic flavor.

Livick is quite a seasoned photographer, and so many of his lyrics evoke imagery, such as “fields of lemongrass and thyme” on “Graves”, or a burning van underneath a bridge with every government agency closing in on “The Other Place”, or the delicious alliteration of “Sweat and leather, sun was beating/Sarasota strapless plaything” on “Like I Want You To”. But often he keeps his words somewhat abstract, much like his photo work: Lines of light blur and squiggle, faces multiply in double exposures, buildings sway in strange angles to show off more of the empty and limitless sky. It’s this kind of intentional artistry and chosen vagueness that makes Livick’s work so interesting.

I’m sorry: I don’t really know how to otherwise explain star gazing iris except to put it through the lens of a young person finding their way in a big city! I can see myself meeting up with friends in Union Square, sharing a couple bottles of three-buck chuck from Trader Joe’s and scarfing down some slices from the one-dollar joint which is now the two-dollar joint, and then stumbling to the Mercury Lounge (RIP) or Cake Shop (RIP) or The Delancey (still there, but let’s be real, RIP eventually) to hear star gazing iris blow our goddamn minds. And while we’re all stoked to be with each other and living our lives with reckless abandon, in the back of our heads, we’re all freaking out about our futures and praying nothing will come along in the next ten years to derail whatever sense of solidarity we might be able to achieve with our lives. (Aye, young lions of 2011. Surely nothing will occur in the 2010s to completely fray the already-fragile fabric of society to which you cautiously cling!)

Perhaps I should just quote from the Spotify page of star gazing iris: “Livick crafts songs built from lush arrangements, memorable melodies, and an enduring fascination with memory, distance, and the passage of time.” Ah, so that’s why I think of New York while listening to places. That summer — and the years during which I lived in New York after it — are fading from my mind as it ages and shrinks. I live about two hundred miles away. And in the — oh God — fifteen years since I first called New York City “home”, I’ve learned and changed a lot about myself.

In a way, that makes Livick’s music hit harder now than it might have if I heard places when I was in my twenties. places is evoking memories of places in times long past. And while I could never go back, and wouldn’t want to, it always feels nice to remember those days of being young, dumb, and full of possibility, even if I was crying for a good chunk of it.

Written by Will Sisskind

P.S.: Please consider donating to our blog. Originally published on our blog.

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t completely slipped under my radar that Steppin’ Razor Blades’ new album Stay Sharp released on May 22. This is their debut album, so it wasn’t that big of a surprise that it escaped my notice. But that didn’t last long: A few people shared it, a writer I like praised the album in a review, and a few friends said they loved it. I couldn’t let that pass: I simply had to hear this album. So I streamed it on my way to work. Then again on my drive home. Then when I got home. Then before I went to bed.

Okay… Maybe all those people are on to something.

Steppin’ Razor Blades are from New England, with members from all over the region. Their style is a blend of two-tone and ska punk, with vibes ranging from the 1980s to today. There’s a healthy dose of keyboard sounds over the usual big punchy horns that you might hear in third-wave favorites like Reel Big Fish or Mustard Plug. But the brass still comes through where it counts.

The album kicks off with “Friend to a Memory”, with an initial horn riff that immediately reminds me of ’80s two-tone. But the guitars and drums feel much more aggressive and punk, while the upstroke ska rhythm is quick; the juxtaposition between styles feels good. The vocals also call back to the ’80s with an often stunted and syncopated pacing. The song is about the pain of growing older and losing a friend, and the pain of trying to stay friends with the ghost of a memory. The song features a fairly long instrumental bridge that alternates between horns and keyboards. It’s definitely a good starting song that hooks you in to keep listening.

“In Stereo” is a fun song that is — unsurprisingly — best enjoyed in stereo. It’s certainly the best mixed and mastered track on the record: The music through headphones is a completely different experience than listening to it on my phone speaker. The horns are a little quieter; in fact, the song feels a little more like garage rock and ska. Continuing with the stereo theme: The track is about being in love and having two lives and hearts beating “in stereo”.

“Ska Boy/Ska Girl” is likely a fan favorite from the album: It has a two-tone rhythm that wants you on the floor and dancing, although it does have mixed in a smooth and ethereal quality. The song’s about coming together and putting in the work to create unity and working-class solidarity. Just like two different styles working as one, it’s important for us all to put our boots on the ground, go into the community, and make a difference.

“Mundane” feels a lot like “Friends to a Memory”, in that it is much faster than the surrounding songs. The horns and keys, however, feel more two-tone. The song is about monotony and redundancy, which makes it fitting to match the vibe of the opening track. Regardless of its similarity to “Friends to a Memory” — or perhaps because of it — the style of “Mundane” grabs your attention and forces you to listen.

The last track I’ll feature is “Breakneck Speed”, which starts with drums, a different intro from the rest of the album’s tracks. It again has more of an ’80s feel, reminding me more of Devo at times. The track is about going to a club and dancing, but going home alone. And the song doesn’t frame that as a bad thing: To be honest, I love that the song makes it explicitly clear that the goal of going out isn’t to find someone to hook up with. Sometimes it’s all about going out, having fun, and getting home safe.

Overall, Stay Sharp is just solid, wholesome, and fun two-tone ska punk jams that are well-produced. I understand why people were fawning over the album. It has its own unique sound, and it definitely hearkens back to the two-tone era in a way that other modern two-tone bands don’t. This year has seen brand new two-tone influenced music from groups like The Doomstompers, Harry Katz and the Pistachios, Bad Operation, and The Chains. Yet all those bands have a very different interpretation of two-tone than what we get from Steppin’ Razor Blades.

If you’re in the mood for something different but also familiar, this new album is a great listen.

Written by Gimpleg

P.S.: Please consider donating to our blog. Originally published on our blog.

This post was selected for Substack as the most popular on our main blog in recent times.

Dream Home Theater’s sophomore LP 2 is a somber and introspective collection of lo-fi bedroom folk whose impact demands repeat listens. Clocking in at just over 24 minutes, these nine short-and-sweet vignettes anchor themselves to simple, affecting melodic motifs from which they rarely stray. For anyone who has ever found sanctuary in the homespun fragility of Kitchen or The Microphones, 2 captures the exact texture of time passing idly by—a late-summer drive with the windows down, lost in the fog of a now spent pining for what has passed, and what comes next.

Where the band’s self-titled debut felt somewhat tentative, 2 shines with an open confidence. The vocals are more present, delivered with conversational, close-range intimacy. The acoustic guitars sing out intricate duets, while the rhythm section functions primarily as texture, a stubble of punctuation rather than a stabilizing force. There is a dry, phonographic rawness to the instrumentation, yet the surface impression of sparseness hides a warbly undercurrent of layered tracking. The end result possesses the off-the-cuff vulnerability of a loose-leaf sketch, but one executed by a skilled hand.

At the emotional core of this record are the lyrics, delivered via spacious and haunting harmonies. The songwriting mimics the loose structure of a stilted, long-running conversation that melts in and out of the silence—intimate but unsure, awkward like a dialogue between new lovers. There is a resigned melancholy of fulfillment captured here: a sharp nostalgic ache that evokes the final days of high school when your friends were always around, and it never occurred to you that they wouldn’t be.

The arrangements are static and undeveloped (pleasantly so), trending towards verse/refrain and through-composed structures well-suited to the brief runtimes. Frankly, the fragility of these soundscapes might shatter under the weight of a traditional pop chorus. Instead, the real development occurs across the macro-level of the record itself: each song dissolves into the next, transforming a humble scattering of ideas into a cohesive vision of quiet beauty.

The album’s front half favors soothing and wistful songs, with the despondent familiarity of peak Elliot Smith. The sweetness of these tracks belies the weight of lyrics such as “You weren’t born broken / But someone tried really hard to make it seem that way” in “Green”, and “It’s noxious but I’m breathing / It’s violence and I’m screaming” in “Sober”. On “April 7 25”, amidst a bed of unique textural percussion, the lyric “Most of the time the sunshine decides when I open my eyes” is a poignant reflection of the friction between warm lethargy and modern angst.

The second half of the album pivots toward an emo-tinged slowcore urgency. Tracks “Harry” and “Bumming Cigs” push the DIY medium to its limit, creating the sensation that the band is straining against its own boundaries—rough, driving, and beautifully breaking against the tape saturation. It all culminates in the album’s standout track, “Carrying On,” a closing track of intricate guitar work and infectious, bittersweet vocal melodies that cement 2 as a gorgeous work of home-recorded solitude.

Written by John Bagatta

P.S.: Please consider donating to our blog. Originally published on our blog.

This post was selected for Substack as the most popular on our main blog in recent times.

For the last couple years, I’ve been saying that my favorite ska bands seem to come out of Wisconsin and Minnesota, a region that many people might not realize has one of the most thriving ska scenes. Bands like the Prizefighters, Space Monkey Mafia, Runaway Ricochet, Local Legends, and Something To Do are all bands whose recent albums I’ve fawned over in the last two to three years. While Courtesy of Tim is definitely not a new band, having put out music consistently since 2018, I had only a cursory knowledge of their music and did not realize they were also from Wisconsin. This EP Perennial changes that forever. They are definitely added to the list of amazing bands from the arctic Midwest.

The EP begins with a fun catchy horn rhythm and the drums accompany on the second pass; when the guitars finally jump in, the horn rhythm changes and doubles in pace. “Reintroduction” establishes a fun ska punk tempo, but then the vocals take over and establish themselves as the primary focus of the song. And what an incredible song it is! This is the bisexuality anthem everyone needed. The lyrics discuss the criticisms that bisexuality people often hear, addressing the idea of passing and of sexuality being a phase. It also comments on how being bi in a het-passing marriage doesn’t make anyone less bisexual. Your current and even permanent relationship status doesn’t change your orientation, and it’s important to be proud of who you are. The lyrics are powerful, the vocals are great, the horns are catchy and engaging. The horns feel like video game boss music at times; the rhythm drives forward through the song. The song includes a break and reset, and feels anthemic as it resolves. If I had to introduce you to one song to sell you on a band, this would be it!

“Net Negative” has more upbeat and uptempo rhythms at the beginning, but the vocal tone and melody definitely reshape the song to feel more melancholic. That theme lasts through the song as the horns manage to deliver a somber melody. “Afterparty” lets the bass take center stage early with a few breaks in every other instrument, establishing a thick bass melody maintained throughout the song. It’s a rare track where the structure is written intentionally to bring the listener’s ear to the bass. The song is solid, and focuses on community and comrades. The song ends on an extended instrumental portion that feels like a fun jam session.

“Tooth and Nail” is the single from the album. It’s a poignant criticism of modern society with the most punk heavy influences on the album, and the horns feel bigger and more epic throughout the track. The chorus in this song is so damn good, so I’m just gonna let it speak for itself:

“Those that braved the wicked race still had to take the back seat and last place, the first rat is still a rat and rats don’t build the maze. We didn’t sign up for the cause, they stuck a needle in a random paw. That ain’t right and that ain’t fair; well, rats don’t make the laws.”

You can take from that what you will, but I fucking love it.

The album closes with “Driftwood Dancefloor”, a solid song that is slower and balances out the upbeat ska punk tempo of the previous track. It’s a hopeful song about being happy and finding friends, love, or letting a relationship develop, with the theme “What will be will be”. Dance, enjoy yourself, enjoy your partner. Let yourself fall in love.

While “Tooth and Nail” and “Reintroduction” are definitely the highlights of the EP, all five songs are outstanding and worthy of listening on repeat. I feel like I’ve been making a mistake by not streaming Courtesy of Tim’s earlier music in relation for the last several years, but it’s a mistake I’ve learned from. This band is definitely added to my rotation.

Written by Gimpleg

P.S.: Please consider donating to our blog. Originally published on our blog.

Let me share some news from HQ. Thanks for reading it and caring about our blog and label.

We have been slow with Substack posts as the main blog had priority, but we are back this week with scheduling.

Fundraiser

Thanks to your generous donations, we raised hundreds of dollars for community centers in Slovakia in recent weeks. Your support mattered a lot.
Read more about the cause:

We are still raising money for various causes and always depend on current needs. Currently, we are raising funds to help two Slovak students study at Berklee College of Music, but we cannot afford it for obvious reasons. If you buy a compilation from us now, you will support this cause.

Buy one, get two!

While we are on hiatus with our cassette label, we still need to clear out our old stock, and we have an amazing deal for you!

For each tape you purchase from our store, you will receive two free cassettes—one from Z Tapes and one from Start-track. Please note that this offer is no longer applicable to bundles, as we were losing too much money on shipping those.

For example, if you buy 4 solo tapes, you’ll get 8 free cassettes!

We really want to avoid throwing anything away, so your support means a lot to us.

Everything must go!

Cassette giveaway

We are approaching another cassette giveaway, and we will do it on our Instagram page as soon as we hit 5000 followers. Stay tuned and follow us.

Writers wanted

The blog is growing, and we are still looking for new writers to join our team. If you would like to learn more about this, check out chat.

Long-term support

Would you like to become our supporter to keep us afloat and get great benefits in return?

Explore our fun clab

All funds are used to run our blog and label.

Thank you for all the fantastic support over the past years. You keep my hopes still alive. I hope all the love you share with us will be repaid.

Have a great week ahead!

With lots of love and hugs,

Filip, the head of START-TRACK.com

35mm photo by Filip

P.S.: We have a new compilation coming out very soon!

This post was selected for Substack as the most popular on our main blog in recent times.

Rather than attempt to reinvent the wheel, dreamscent leans into the nostalgia of 90s shoegaze and alternative that inspired them—balancing atmospheric-like distortion with hazy, reverb-soaked guitar and emotion-fueled prose.

Hailing from the thriving indie rock music scene in downtown Raleigh, North Carolina, dreamscent pools its inspiration from early pioneers of the subgenre, including My Bloody Valentine, Lush, and Mazzy Star, along with some local favorites from the mid-Atlantic state like Superchunk and Wednesday.

Shoegaze has never been quite as popular, experiencing a significant resurgence thanks to a growing interest from black metal, soft grunge, emo, post-punk, and post-hardcore bands trying to drown their music in a flood of warm, fuzzy effects pedals.

It’s become so vast that regional subcultures have started to differentiate with artists like nothing, They Are Gutting A Body of Water, Bleary Eyed, and Her New Knife, laying the foundation for the new Philly sound.

Raleigh is not far behind. More than just the state capital, it is one of three big cities that, along with Durham and Chapel Hill, make up what is locally known as “The Triangle.” Home to three of the most renowned research universities and more than a dozen concert venues, it is well-known as a “hotbed” of the mid-Atlantic indie scene.

dreamscent looks inward and explores more introspective themes on their full-length studio debut, Burning Days, sharing a personal journey of self-discovery and reflection.

Buried beneath the warm, buzzing instrumentals is something raw and vulnerable, and perhaps, at times, even a little cathartic.

The album opens things by taking them in a somewhat different direction, drifting through a blanket of warm, fuzzy effects with a more effervescent mid-2000s power-pop aesthetic.

“Don’t Mind” is an airy melody with a bouncier feel that leans more towards The New Pornographers than it does Beach House.

For listeners, it is their first formal introduction to dreamscent. So, quite understandably, the song might feel a little out of place since it really tries to embrace the 90s aesthetic.

Jack Pederson quickly elevates the mood with some bright, hooky guitars and soft vibrato. “Burn Through Me” juxtaposes pleasant jams with poetic lyrics. It’s also the inspiration for the album title, referring to “Burning Days” as an allegory for wasting time.

“Wish I knew how to put it out / Or learn to take the heat. But either way, I’m burning days / So let it burn through me.”

The heartfelt words feel like they come from a deeply personal place. It reads like a veiled metaphor for battling addiction, going from having a wonderful time unwinding from the stress of everyday life to becoming a tiresome burden, causing him to miss out on opportunities.

Glo Hwang’s vocals really burst out with a quiet intensity on the lead single, “Red String,” a vivid portrait of a couple on the outs, trying to grasp onto whatever thread is left holding them together.

It’s reminiscent of 90s grunge acts like Garbage or Hole—loud, angsty, and perhaps even a little bitter—all the things that embodied music at the time.

“Photograph” takes things in a noticeably different direction. Lyrically, the song is more whimsical and care-free, reflecting back on a beautiful day and a brief moment caught on film.

There is a high-end sensitivity in the arrangements, giving the reverb the ability to act more like a narrative tool, mimicking the overlapping and intrusive thoughts and ideas that find their way to disrupt us when we are at our most introspective. Ironically, the song gets progressively heavier and more aggressive.

“Wrinkle” takes another, albeit different, page from the 90s alternative playbook, with a more jangly pop feel, similar to peak R.E.M. or Dinosaur Jr.

The aptly named “Lost in a Dream” adds some real depth to the project. The arpeggiated wails and echoes give the track a more conventional alt-rock feel, bringing the album back around, full circle.

Heavy reverb washes over the final track, “Moving Forward,” an emotionally-sparked inner monologue reflecting on past heartbreaks from a place of maturity and growth.

Hwang layers her hauntingly soft-spoken voice with another vivacious spark of energy and enthusiasm, really capturing the whole “I’m over you” spirit of the track.

As far as a debut album goes, this is a promising start for a group destined to grow more polished.

Written by Daniel Offner

P.S.: Please consider donating to our blog. Originally published on our blog.

This post was selected for Substack as the most popular on our main blog in recent times.

Harry Katz is a music historian, and the Pistachios may be some of the most talented musicians around. The Los Angeles band often features classic rock, blues, and soul, with a bit of a punk rock attitude and a DIY work ethic. If you follow the band on social media, you’ll see that nearly every day, Harry Katz will play a single from the ‘50s, ‘60s, and ‘70s on vinyl and talk about the history of the song, the inspirations and influences, and more. He has a wealth of musical knowledge, especially on the history of the industry, but also of the art and craft of music. It’s this encyclopedic knowledge and love that allows the band to sound so unique. They’re not reinventing the wheel or creating something new; they are taking some of the best aspects from every corner of the musical world over the last 80 years and putting them through their own filter, thereby creating greatness. 

For their new EP, The Last To Know, on Circle Back Records, they decided to make a 2 Tone ska album. It’s as if they listened to The Specials, Madness, the Beat, and then added in every previous influence they had, big band, R&B, Blues, jazz, soul, and rock and roll. It feels like they poured their heart into these four songs, like this was the culmination of a lifetime’s worth of work and passion. What feels like a magnum opus may instead just be the byproduct of an incredible level of talent that has spent years honing their craft to the point where everything they touch becomes a masterpiece. It’s Elvis Costello meets Tom Waits meets Madness meets Postmodern Jukebox. Whatever it is, you need to hear it for yourself to understand.

The record begins with “Yonkers”, and for anyone first discovering this band, you get to discover Harry Katz’s vocals for the first time. They are uniquely deep and especially raspy, to the point where it feels a little off when you first hear it. But it quickly grows on you as a part of what makes the band so special. The chorus of “There’s no joy in Yonkers” mixes with the descriptions of going through old photo albums after the passing of their mother. There is a heavy sadness to the song, as it addresses going back and seeing your childhood in boxes, remembering that there was a time when everyone was close. It’s about a lost time and the knowledge that when you pass, those memories die forever.

Instrumentally, the song begins with mostly rhythm while the horns take the melody. Emotionally, the music doesn’t overly set a tone. It has a pleasant rhythm, but the horns are neither too upbeat and high-pitched nor too slow and low to give away the mood of the song. I think it may have been intentional to sing the verse without backing vocals in order to hint at the loneliness of the subject. However, when it hits the chorus, some of the lines are sung with backing vocals of Linn Holmes and McKail Seely, and the other lines are accented with a lounge-esque vocal ah-ooh. This leads into a beautiful bridge that first pairs brass solos counter-playing off of the song’s dominant melody, before an instrumental call-and-response kicks off between the horns and an almost Santana-like rock guitar.

“Yonkers” is such an incredible opening track, but it’s probably not the best song on this 4-song EP. That title likely goes to “80 Proof”. This track features Holmes and Seely perfectly harmonizing the vocals in what might be my favorite vocal performance of any ska song ever. The song is an upbeat 2 Tone track with an excellent keyboard melody, understated guitars, horns that accent the chorus, and just beautiful vocals. The bridge lets the keyboard show off and pair well with -- but not outshine -- the vocals, which shape the narrative of the story. Lyrically, the story is about mistakes, drinking, regrets, and an inability to move on early in the song. But after the bridge, it turns the lyrics on their head as they feature growth, remorse, strength, and moving on. The song seems to center on ignoring problems in a relationship, creating hangovers, and one person moving past the issues while another person doesn’t. The story feels nearly as beautiful as the way it is delivered.

With only four songs on this EP, I don’t want to talk in-depth about all four tracks, but the last two are definitely worth at least mentioning. Harry Katz has referred to “Similarities” as his Danny Elfman song, and once I heard that, I couldn’t unhear it when listening. This song is somewhere between Elfman and Madness, with incredible saxophone. Think if the Oogie Boogie Man was on the Nightboat to Cairo while Elvis Costello was writing the lyrics. 

Finally, “Who’s Coming Home” is a little harder for me to place. It feels almost like ‘70s disco, but it is by no means a disco track. It is the most upbeat sound on the album, and every element works flawlessly together: The keys, the simple drums, the huge horns, and the vocalists all work together to create another stunning track.

I don’t know if the Pistachios plan on continuing to put out ska music, or if this is just a four-song foray into the genre, but the ska world is definitely better for having these tracksMay 28een MJune 6d June 6th, the Pistachios will be playing a total of six live shows in New York, New Jersey, Massachusetts, and Connecticut. If you are in the area, please look up their socials and find a way to get to these shows. You won’t be disappointed.

Take a listen to The Last to Know above.

Written by Gimpleg

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The Sneaky Heat Missiles’ newest album, Songs of Seduction and Swagger, is such a unique experience that it becomes almost impossible to describe. I love ska that takes everything you know about the genre and turns it on its head, and makes something that sounds different from what everyone else is doing. This is why I fell in love with Eichlers in 2022 and Grim Luck in 2024: Two albums that were just incredibly different from everything else. There have been a few other albums that were very unique, but I think those two stand out the most. Perhaps this album isn’t quite as unique as those first two, but it will definitely grab your attention.

If forced to describe it in a way that helps a reader understand, Songs of Seduction and Swagger is perhaps a lighthearted sci-fi influenced ska album that features a blend of David Bowie, early Fishbone, and perhaps Admiral Ackbar’s Dishonorable Discharge with microphone reverb and a sprinkle of klezmer. If you mix all of that into a pot and throw in the vibes of Hans Gruber and the Die Hards, you end up with something that resembles this album.

The album begins with an intro, a track featuring audio samples that sound like an intercepted radio broadcast from an alien ship surveying Earth. There is a slight drum beat under the track, and it ends with the question “Where is the Captain?” It immediately transitions to “Space Pirates from Outer Space”. The first thing you notice is the horns that dominate the intro, along with some sharp drums. But once the vocals come in, it feels very ‘60s and ‘70s sci-fi. The reverberated vocals with a backing vocal that matches the primary are somehow perfectly “off”, giving it a cool retro effect that fits the song’s vibe to a T. The song tells the story of space pirates partying on a dying planet, taking what they want as their resources deplete around them. It feels fun, retro-futuristic, and chaotic, and gives an air of being absurd while delivering multiple life lessons throughout the track.

The second full song on the album is “Ins and Outs”, and it shows why the album is called Songs of Seduction and Swagger. It’s an upbeat ska rhythm throughout the track, which is about the ins and outs of a relationship. There is definitely something to the vocal melody and tone: The vocals are chock full of swagger, and the chorus has a nice backing vocal that adds to the theme and overall aura of the track.

“Okay Days” feels like it could be the most successful song from the album. It has a little bit of funk to the song, and the vocals are phenomenal. The subject matter is about surviving, even as the number of bad days seems to be stacking up, and the good and OK days are fewer and further in between. But even with serious subject matter, there is still a reference to a ray gun and other little lyrical allusions to the sci-fi themes of the album. There are other themes to the song as well, which I’ll get back to later.

“Grizeldalina” has an epic introduction that begins with a call out for the titular heroine of the story before erupting in what could possibly be described as “space circus” music. The song is high space fantasy nonsense with no bearing on the real world. It feels like this is just a sci-fi nonsense song. It describes a powerful villain who has the means and ability to change the world for the better, but instead uses his powers to absorb and consolidate more and more power. In this weird sci-fi hellscape, the poor bow and kneel before the powerful villain, while others, the rich, envy his power and aspire to mimic him. In this obviously unrealistic, fantastical realm, they sell food with a poison that gets you sick, and the same people who make the poison sell the cure. In this world, you need money in order to survive, but the only way to get money is to spend the hours that you survive working and providing labor and profit for the rich, who then sell you the things you need in order to stay alive long enough to provide those rich with more labor. It’s an absurdist nightmare, and the chorus claims “Who needs bullets when you’ve got big money / Nothing to lose but the whole world to gain”. At the end of the song, our heroine Grizeldalina comes to save us with her missiles for fists. But this is just a fantasy, because Grizeldalina isn’t real.

The “Songs of Seduction” portion of the name kicks into high gear for the appropriately euphemistically named “Heavenly Bodies”, but the last song I want to discuss in detail is my favorite song from the album. Anyone who knows me or who has read enough of my reviews or follows my social media will know the subject I am probably most passionate about, and that is police violence.

“Don’t Trust a Copper” has the privilege of being my favorite song on this album, and it addresses several issues with police violence. The song tells the story of a police officer who fabricated evidence against a woman and then used his position of power in order to sexually assault her. In another verse, I’m not sure if it’s the same story or the same officer, but there is another case of an officer who knocked on a woman’s door and sexually assaulted her as well. The song tells stories of cops who blackmail women to see them naked, a cop who robs banks, cops who beat their wives and kids. The chorus of “Never trust a copper, because they’re never gonna trust in you” is great advice for everyone, and drives home the theme of the song.

And now, I’m going to hijack this review for a minute and talk about police violence.

First, in the United States, around 30 police officers per year are killed by suspects, and police kill over 1,200 people per year. So cops are 40 times more likely to kill someone than to be killed. But death is far from the only negative outcome, as this song points out. The stories in this song, I’m told, are all brief summaries of actual stories, and I’m going to add to those stories with other real stories.

In Kenbridge, Virginia, earlier this year, a woman whose ex-boyfriend was a police officer went to pick up their child from his house as they had shared custody. The officer had made threats to her earlier in the day. There had been years of alleged domestic violence, and the department knew about it, but pressured her not to file charges because it could cost him his job. She called the police chief -- her ex’s boss -- and requested an escort to pick up her child due to the threats. The chief said he didn’t want to get involved and refused an escort. When she hung up, the chief called the father and told him about the call. The father, an active police officer, came out of the house and shot her several times for getting the police involved. She survived. The officer was charged. She is suing the city, the department, and the chief for $144 million.

In December 2025, a Missouri police officer pleaded guilty to stealing nude images from the phones of women he pulled over. If they had insurance on their phone, he would take their phone back to their car, then he would look through their phone and steal their images, either texting them to himself and deleting the text, and sometimes taking pictures of their phone. He was only sentenced to two years for the 20 victims. There were reports that this is much more widespread, and this is only the first officer to get charged. Another officer was suspended in March of this year for the same thing.

In an ICE facility in Louisiana, an officer sexually abused a woman for months. The officer would provide access to the woman’s daughter, letters, pictures, and more in exchange for coerced sex. He was charged in January.

In just the first ten days of May 2026, a Delaware officer pleaded guilty to rape, a Secret Service officer was arrested for following a woman to her hotel room and masturbating at her hotel room door, and a Florida corrections officer was arrested for attempted sexual battery. Also, a Hawaiian police officer pulled over a woman, followed her to her hotel room, coerced her into sex, and used his position to try to undermine the investigation. A Tennessee Detention Deputy was arrested for sexually assaulting a male inmate, while a Texas detention officer sexually assaulted a child and posted the images online. A Texas officer was charged after he sexually assaulted a woman who called for help, while a school resource officer admitted to a sexual “relationship” with a minor student.

In my own life -- I learned about this a couple of decades after it happened -- my brother and three friends were pulled over in front of my parents’ house in the middle of the night. They had marijuana on them, and the car smelled like weed. The police officer pulled the girl out of the car and took her into his car, where, apparently, he threatened to arrest her and ruin her life (and everyone in the car) for drugs, traffic citations, and other things, but would drop all of the charges if she gave him oral sex.

Coerced sex is not consent. You CANNOT consent to sex with an on-duty police officer. They have power over you. There is always an implied power dynamic and a risk of rejection. Sexual assault by police is the absolute worst, not only because they are the people who are supposed to enforce the law, but because it undermines every woman who would otherwise file charges. Women already know that rapes are extremely rare to prosecute, and that rape kits go years and sometimes decades without getting tested, often surpassing statutes of limitations. If abusers are police, and if police protect abusers, who the fuck is left to report to?

All of the information about the cases that had been reported in the last week came from Rachelmlap on Instagram and Substack. She keeps a database and reports on gendered violence by police every single week. Please follow her.

OK, sorry for that extreme commentary, but it’s important to me that people understand why that song is so important to me, and why I appreciate The Sneaky Heat Missiles making a song about the issue.

The album, from front to back, is absolutely phenomenal and a creative masterpiece. It’s a themed sci-fi ska opera that touches on many relevant moral issues with crazy vocal melodies. This is an album I wouldn’t want anyone to miss. I beg you to pick this album up, or at least give it a stream or two, but before I go, there is one last message.

In “Okay Days”, the protagonist has his grip firmly on his ray gun, and later plans to permanently escape the planet they are on by getting on a silver spinning saucer in the sky. If you or any of the aliens in your life find that the okay days are coming too few and too far apart, and you are thinking of getting on that silver spinning saucer in the sky, remember that help is always available. In the United States, you can always call the 24-hour mental health crisis line, 9-8-8. The line is not without its flaws, but it’s still very important to keep you on this planet with us. If you live outside of the US, please look up your local services or contact a friend.

I love you all. Take a listen to Songs of Seduction and Swagger above.

Written by Gimpleg

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Disclaimer: we at Start-Track do not encourage, recommend, or otherwise condone the use of illicit drugs. Nor do we admit, in any legally-binding sense, to ever having partaken in them or even standing downwind of those who do.

But, with the legal boilerplate out of the way, let’s speak frankly: if you happen to find yourself under the influence of psychedelics this summer—with the breeze soft in the trees, and the heat of your sunburned neck dissipating into the evening air—do yourself a favor and spin Glimpse, the new EP from Brooklyn-based psych revivalists Good Time Mystery Vision. This is music to peak to—29 minutes of shiny, fuzz-drenched vibes with the crunchy warmth of an FM classic rock station blasting through a car radio. It arrives straight from the golden 60’s era of psych-rock nuggets, just in time to soundtrack the sweaty euphoria of this year’s festival season.

Glimpse is caked in instrumental extravagance. The guitars are boisterous and riffy, with each track capstoned by a good ol’ fashioned face-melter of a solo that sweeps you up, spits you out, and leaves you drifting in its wake, craving more. The lyrics dance with Syd Barrett-style whimsy, carried by vocal harmonies that sparkle with the road-worn charm of The Grateful Dead. Underneath it all, an Allman Brothers-esque texture of keys glues the arrangements together, while a relentless rhythm section keeps you moving and swaying, grounding your body in the grass beneath your toes even as your mind floats far above.

The trip begins with “Fish,” a vibrant track featuring a protagonist who is—metaphorically, or perhaps literally—a fish. The intro hits with pure Rock n’ Roll bombast, while the phrase “Got the parameters just right” confirms that the psychedelic experience has now begun in earnest. The song’s second half devolves into a magnificent instrumental jam, where a grooving bassline and echoing guitars play within a mellow cosmos of spacey effects.

Just as the sonic overload threatens to overwhelm, “Ferris Wheel” offers a spot of shade in which to chill out. Driven by hazy, Hendrix-style rhythm guitar, “Ferris Wheel” feels like a dusk stroll beneath the boardwalk, the wind cooling your brow in a pocket of peace that is insulated from—but still vibrating with—the neon hustle above. For a second, it seems that the turbulence is over. The trip has turned a gentle corner, and the comedown will be smooth.

Or so you thought—but Glimpse has other plans. The illusion of safety is shattered by the opening psych-fuzz blast of “Panda Man,” which wrings out your soul with an energy that is equal parts jitter and awe. It’s not until the EP closes with “So I Say” that the storm finally clears, leaving behind a heartfelt, anthemic space in which to ponder whatever cosmic lessons can be scraped from the husk of your consciousness. As the final notes of this cathartic closer drift away, the bass lingers with one last, playful riff, and you’ll practically pull a muscle reaching to hit the replay button.

Listen to Glimpse above (BYO substances, ego safety not guaranteed).

Written by John Bagatta

P.S.: Please consider donating to our blog. Originally published on our blog.

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Released at the tail end of last year, “Acorn St.”, the debut EP from New Jersey alt-rock collective Time Well Spent, is absolutely worthy of your attention. The six-piece draws on an eclectic and often unexpected range of influences across the spectrum of alternative music, and the result is something pretty damn special indeed.

Each of the band’s two lead vocalists is used to striking effect throughout. Guitarist and keyboardist Joseph Keller’s calm, moody tones take center stage on opener “Writings On The Wall”, offering a beautiful, haunting contrast in an otherwise monumental track, acoustic and electric guitars layered on top of each other to produce a genuinely magical sound. Keller returns on the curiously-titled “What Once Was (the one dave don’t like)”, which has the band leaning into more shoegazing sensibilities as it spirals ferociously like a Catherine wheel, a dazzling storm of noise. Dave, sorry if you’re reading, but there’s nothing not to like here!

Second singer Aaron Ortiz offers a more nakedly emotional presence, laying his heart bare on the soulful “Running Out Of Place”, punctuated by a cinematic guitar solo that really amplifies the anguish. Ortiz’s intensity hits its apex on the anthemic “Broken Glass”, easily the record’s heaviest cut. He sounds triumphant here; the repeated cry of “I’m on top of the world“ atop the stadium-like guitar has you cheering for him as he claws out of the rut he’s trapped in at the beginning.

The closer, “Empty Space”, was a last-minute addition and is something of a rough diamond. Eschewing all the bells and whistles experimented with on the prior songs, it’s two minutes of just Keller and a guitar. Intimate, introspective, and intentional, it’s the perfect way to close proceedings.

Though they’ve been together as a group for a while, Time Well Spent only made their live debut earlier this month. We look on with bated breath to see how these new experiences shape the band’s future work and help them grow as performers, because Acorn St. positively brims with promise. Exciting times ahead!

Written by Matt Ward

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In the realm of ska-core, somewhere between Stuck Lucky and The Write Ups, where hardcore is often more of a descriptor than ska, where horns fill in the riffs, where upstrokes are often optional, where anger and aggression are mandatory, and where messaging is paramount, Salt Lake City’s Never Donts stake their claim.

Never Dont Party begins with a heavy, distorted guitar; drums and horns join in unison, matching the rhythm and aggression as the lead song “Working Class Panic” kicks in. Like many songs on the album, the intro track is dominated by vocal aggression and themes of class awakening. While “Working Class Panic” doesn’t specifically mention AI, it centers on the question posed in the first line of the song: “What will we eat when our labor is obsolete?” When our corporate overlords no longer need our labor to generate their wealth, when our policies have rendered our existence redundant, where do we turn? Aside from the lyrics, another highlight of the song is the punchy horn riff halfway through the song -- a dun-dun duh-dun, dun dun duh-dun -- that really pops. As the song ends, the horn line returns, but this time it’s accompanied by a vocal chorus singing along with the horn line.

The second track, “Bridge Builders,” features two of my favorite themes when it comes to political music. Songs of resistance can’t just be about revolution, anger, and voicing complaints in a broken system. Yes, it is always imperative to identify problems and offer what standards you demand, but it’s also important to build community. “Bridge Builders” focuses heavily on this and other concepts: Having fun, dancing, love, and joy. If we want a world where everyone is valued and free, if we want a world where we can pursue our dreams and live without exploitation, we have to make sure our struggle includes joy. Do the things you love.

The final instrumental breakdown in this song is a lot of fun: While the percussion plays a large part in it, the drums are mostly removed. The guitars and horns take precedence over a clap-like beat, and the horn melody really shines. Somehow, the melody fits really well in the song, where it integrates almost seamlessly, but it is also so starkly different from the rest of the song that I can’t help smiling when I hear it.

One of my favorite tracks on the album is “Rebel in Me”. It’s a fast punk/hardcore song. There are no ska elements. There aren’t even horns in this one. The mix is great. The guitar work is the best on the album, in my opinion. At times, it feels a little intentionally discomforting, but then there is a mid-song breakdown where the guitars and drums come in cleaner and faster. A line from the chorus repeated on its own hits really hard: “I’d rather be a free man in my grave than live as a puppet or a slave”. It’s the perfect response to the modern American mantra of “He should have complied” or “They should do it the right way”. This is the perfect fuck you to “Back the blue”.

“Adult Anarchist” is the first real ska song on the album, and in my opinion, musically the best. The rhythm flows really well, the hooks carry forward, and the vocals fit the song better than anywhere else on the album. “Cryptoids” follows immediately after as another ska song, but also is the first song that is just pure fun: A song about cryptids that has a great ska core breakdown and fun, quick-finger guitar solo. Suddenly, the whole texture of the album changes.

A few tracks later, “Decay” returns to a darker, more aggressive tone, but keeps up more of the ska elements. The song seems to describe a government raid, either from police, ICE, or ATF, but it doesn’t matter. The point is that you’re never safe, even in the safety of your home. Divide and conquer: Whether you’re on the outside now or not, they will come for you. Society will decay. The only question is whether you will go down fighting. When they kick in your door, will you put your hands over your head and be led away in cuffs, or will your finger be on a trigger when your time is up? Maybe that’s just my interpretation of the lyrics.

Near the end of the album, we get “Ice Melt”, a wonderful song about glaciers and the end of the last ice age… Oh, wait, that’s my notes for something else completely. No, this “Ice Melt” features the chorus “You used to say don’t tread on me, now police have full immunity”. I’m not sure what ice melt has to do with Walmart brand Gestapo, but I really like the saxophone at the end of the song. Anyway, fuck ICE, always and forever, borders are fake, and ACAB.

Earlier, I said one of my favorite songs is “Rebel in Me”. My favorite track is “We Are Germs”. It has some similar themes, it’s both enlightening and optimistic, and it features some great ska-core riffs.

“Dancing with my Friends” almost reminds me of a Sad Snack song, which is quite the compliment, since I love Sad Snack. But the real treat on the album was saved for the end of the album: “Secrets of the Ooze”. It’s a fucking ska punk riff about the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, borrowing from the cartoon theme song. If you are going to a show and the Never Donts are opening and you’ve never heard the band before, this is the song that is getting you on your feet and on the dance floor.

This is a rare album that I think just gets better and better as the album goes on, where the second half outshines the first half.

Written by Gimpleg

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Seattle musician Stella Lovell pulls no punches in her debut EP. Although I admit even calling this a debut feels slightly misleading, Lovell composes songs that feel lived in and well-seasoned, suggesting a musician that is anything but new. The sound recalls artists like Lydia Loveless and Karly Hartzman, leaning further into the rock elements than the twangy Americana of the Midwest. Still, it is no small feat that the artist fits right into this star-studded lineup of female singer-songwriters.

On first listen, it is perhaps the vocal command that is most striking. This is an artist in complete control of her voice–its textures, fault lines, and timbre. As she sings, “Nobody’s evil in the eyes of somebody new,” from the first track, “Breathe,” the vocal lines warp the melody into a brassy amalgamation that is entirely her own. The result is a propulsive opener that sets the stage for a well-defined and compelling indie rock aesthetic.

The second track, “Give It Up,” begins with muted guitars that form the backbone of the song. Incisive lyrics reveal a writer’s keen eye for detail, as Lovell describes clenched teeth and “picking the skin off the corners of … thumbs.” These visceral images ground some of the more abstract motifs in the song, in which love appears to leave one utterly empty. By contrast, “Delicate” brings a touch of dream pop to the EP. It is perhaps my favorite song on the record, one that appeals to the listener: “Say something delicate to me/ Let the words spill past the tips of your teeth.” In this tune, the artist comes closest to the folk-tinged pop of musicians like Tomberlin as well. Never straying far from the indie rock center of this record, Lovell finds plenty of ways to incorporate other influences and styles while maintaining her unique aesthetic.

“Get Away” returns to the hook-laced rock that serves as a through line throughout the album. This single is a radio-ready banger, one that should appeal to just about any listener. She sings, “Yeah, love makes us stupid/ But don’t be confused when I say I’m leaving.” It reads like a breakup song best heard in the car at max volume with the windows rolled down.

The final song, “Lonely,” comes closest to the Americana-infused work of a band like Wednesday. If the previous track chronicles the end of a relationship, then this one mixes in complicated notes of grief: “I still sleep six feet from your grave/ I guess I’m staying lonely.” Like many (see all?) musicians before her, Lovell writes about relationships, but she brings a knack for the well-turned phrase and a writer’s penchant for humanizing detail to the composition. Perhaps more importantly, she brings karaoke-ready hooks and an infectious musicality to each of these finely-drawn compositions.

Written by SilenceKid

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It seems like in the wake of Chappell Roan’s “Good Luck, Babe!”, everyone with some sort of musical knowledge was rushing to cover the song. I don’t think any other act out there gave it a treatment like Melbourne/Naarm’s Snailgun: Noisy, frantic, and messy, much like someone’s mindset when they’re killing themselves to repress their sexuality. If anything, this version really drives that sentiment home. It makes the original sound too clean.

But that’s Snailgun for you: Sharp, sludgy, and all too happy in the dirt. I’ve seen a few other articles around the web call them and their debut LP Glass Walls “acerbic”, “sardonic”, and “nihilistic”. I say they don’t sound afraid to touch elements of rock that most acts today have left behind: The jagged distortions, the blown-out drums, the disaffected but devilish vocals. But the band also knows how to wield such musical weapons.

The band’s massive sound masks their smaller roster. Only three people make up Snailgun: Adam Osth (vox/guitars/keys), Daniel Little (bass/vox), and Sam Maher (drums). Yet this trio makes the sum of their parts seem more like the result of an exponential equation. Of course, other three-piece groups have succeeded in building humongous walls of sound: Muse, Monolord, the Jimi Hendrix Experience, Cream, Rush, and all sorts of big names throughout the power rock/psych/prog/metal canons. Snailgun has quite a ways to go before reaching that sort of global household name status, of course. But they’ve made a giant leap towards that goal, for sure.

Perhaps the sound on Glass Walls would also associate well with the sound of early Nirvana: Buzzy, full of attitude, angular, and in-your-face, without the stink of corporate sheen. “SD”, the album’s first track, begins without pause or fade-in: Here’s Snailgun, suckers. The lyrics of the song exist - three verses, with the first and third the same - but they supplement the harsh and hypnotizing five-minute sonic assault. It is both melodic and progressive like a solid post-rock anthem, but it rages with raw, direct input realness in place of anything cinematic or soaring. If post-rock is water and air, Snailgun’s music is fire and earth: Hot, hard, and unforgiving.

A major characteristic of Snailgun’s music is to go in any direction at any time while staying smooth with the jam. “Labyrinth”, which the band wrote and released last June, is a six-minute soundtrack to music making its way through a maze. The further it gets, and the more lost it becomes, the more frantic and fierce it sounds. Then, suddenly, a saxophone shows up. David Waldie provides the sax, tying it seamlessly into the song, which unravels totally in its final minute. But despite the different ideas in “Labyrinth” and its unspooling sound, it never deviates from its original core. You’ll lose yourself in the track just like you would in an unsolvable maze.

On the flip side of the frustration of “Labyrinth”, “Shadow Operator” grinds away with grunge sentiment, taking a darker tone. As the second single from the record, it gave a hint to fans that Glass Walls would feature the band touching on different musical ideas from track to track, and shows Snailgun’s ability to take on any style with gusto, as well as a little bit of gasoline.

Most tracks on Glass Walls relish in their length, ranging from five to over eight minutes. However, that’s not a default setting. “Straight Ahead” clocks in at just 2:02, but doesn’t need any longer to do its job: Provide fast SST-style punk that will cause some banged-up knees in the pit. Then there’s “Midway I”, a heavy instrumental that builds with suspense into a sensational beat. This track leads directly into “Midway II”, which adds lyrics turning the track into a full punk tour-de-force: “Now in this darkness, years pass / I remember the conversations, but that wouldn’t spare us / Under lights in the open sky”.

Snailgun closes out Glass Walls with two rollicking jams. First, “It’s Called Fear” uses bone-shaking bass and drums and screeching guitars to symbolize oncoming panic. Then, there’s “Screamy Cat”, which features no cats throughout its nearly nine minutes of pure alt-rock bliss, giving vibes of Television and their contemporaries. (Richard Hell and Wire come to mind.) The repetition at the end of “Screamy Cat” makes for incredible headbanging material, which demands playing at full volume, preferably from a garage in a quiet suburban neighborhood.

Many early listeners to Glass Walls have compared Snailgun’s sound to British post-hardcore band McLusky, although Snailgun takes that assertive sound and add some jagged edges of their own for maximum damage. They harp on musical phrases until they explode, playing them more intensely until blood, sweat, and tears drip from every note. It’s the kind of sound that embraces the world of today: Watching everything grow more intense through giant windows and feeling the glass rattle, and knowing it’s going to shatter soon, but being too entranced by the terror to turn away.

In any case, the noise on Snailgun’s Glass Walls will help you mask out the noise going on in the world today, if you’d like.

Written by Will Sisskind

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From the top of the Prudential building, in the middle of the Charles, and in front of Gate E at Fenway, everyone’s screaming: We want more new music from Boston! And boy howdy, folks, I’m here to deliver once again.

This is Diane Young, who Vampire Weekend fans might note has named themselves as a play on the phrase “dying young.” The lively sound comes courtesy of Nina DiRusso (lead vox), Dan McCarthy (guitar/keys), Zachary Lee (drums), Alex Ilyadis (guitar/vox), and Jack Whelan (bass). They’ve spent the last couple of years shaping their sound, incorporating elements of guitar-driven pop, alt-rock grit, and power-emo into their energetic vibe.

It’s Happening Again is the band’s debut EP, following 2024’s singles “Impostor Syndrome” and “Astigmatism”. On the five new tracks, Diane Young meditates on getting older; more specifically, entering their thirties, and all the twists, turns, ups, and downs that come with it. While these days turning thirty feels different from it did for past generations, it still comes with reflections on adolescence and young adulthood, letting go of old pain, preparing for new problems, and finding comfort in lessons learned along the way.

For instance, “Secret Spot” -- the EP’s first single, which dropped in April -- launches into a grunge-tinged jam about mental spirals about haunting memories from the past, evoking the record’s title: “Oh no, it’s happening again / I cannot eat or sleep or drink, just wanna forget about it”. Getting older means staring at the ceiling most nights, not just with fears about the present and future but also feeling the nibbles of the past.

It also means overcoming those fears, or at least knowing that forming healthier habits is the key to survival. In fact, studies have shown that making friends and maintaining social connections in middle age can reduce dementia risk later in life. Such is the theme on “Applebee’s”, where DiRusso sings of wanting to do something with people, whether it’s have them come over and play a game or go out. Anything’s better than staying home alone and doomscrolling.

Diane Young has plenty of friends in the greater indie scene, as evidenced on “Rearranging”, a track featuring Midwestern emo influences and the vocal/guitar chops of Christine Goodwyne from Pool Kids. The sparkling riffs accompany lyrics that comment on how memories change and fade over the years, and how hard it gets to hang on to them in their purest form.

That track has a bit of a softer edge compared to the first two, and while the volume turns back up on “Chemicals”, it turns down the tempo to evoke the slow burn of anxiety creeping its way through the body. With growing older comes being more cognizant of everything happening in your body: Every emotion, change, and cell. The bridge explodes as DiRusso and Ilyadis duet, raging about lost times and people and moments from the past. Those, like good knees and a back that doesn’t hurt and brain cells, disappear with youth.

Speaking of bad knees, the last song, “Run,” caps off the album with a 3/4 alt-rock anthem to youth passing into the distance. The change in time signature marks the emotional change of growing up, doing the waltz of life, but finding it harder to keep in time as the years pass. It makes for a heart-wrenching end to the record, but one that shows off the band’s chops in full force.

It’s Happening Again starts a new chapter for Diane Young, who has bopped around the greater Boston scene for quite a bit, playing with local favorites like Mallcops, Cape Crush, Toluca Lake, and Roser and gaining new fans around the area. Now they’re looking to push beyond and introduce their sound to throngs of listeners all over the Commonwealth and country. Their name may be a play on “dying young”, but this band’s life is just getting started.

Written by Will Sisskind

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