Funeral Sounds - 001 // December 2013

Funeral Sounds Issue 001 DECEMBER 2013 Interviews w/ DAD PUNCHERS RODRIGO CASTELLANOS REVIEWS POETRY ART PHOTOGRAPHY OTHER STUFF

What Font Do I Use? (This Zine Is A Lonely Estate and This Is The Directory) listen to death grips

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To The Reader Mark Garza 1 Kevin Devine Does Stuff Jorge Velez 2 “to an ex girlfriend” Billy Philhower 4 “Damsel in Dis’ Dress” Jonathon Peters 5 “with my heart a hermometer “ Karsten Kelsey 6 “On Love and Longboards” Jonathon Peters 6 “Safe as a ship” Jose Perez 6 “situational awareness” Karsten Kelsey 6 EMO (For Lack of a Better Title) Ben Curttright 10 untitled Franco Tort 11 Creech - Pasture Review Jorge Velez 12 Immersion. Stephen Alcala 12 END OF A YEAR Eli Shively 13 For Your Convenience Stephen Alcala 14 “instropect.” Bryce Apodaca 18 “Davis ‘10” Jose Perez 23 “Drop. Out.” Christopher Martinez 24 Vintage Revolver - Glaciers...Beach Review Eli Shively 26 Uncle/Father Oscar –Whami Guam Brad Review Matt Diamond 27 INTERVIEW: Dad Punchers Mark Garza & Alex Boundy 28 “zero thirty, pitch black.” Nick Spere 32 Cassettes of the Year Matt Diamond 33 “YOU & I IN DISSONANCE” Anna Serafini & Drake Birkner 35 “cycles.” Jesse Warner 36 “wizard of oz” Cory Lamping 38 DEFEND HARSH NOISE Billy Hernandez 38 untitled Jake Dixon 39 untitled Jake Dixon 39 When The Music Ends: A Short Story Timothy Henderson 40 INTERVIEW: Rodrigo Castellanos, Globe Garage Mark Garza 44 Do You Remember Rock’N’Roll Radio?

Nicholas Benevenia 45

Cover Credit to Garrett Brickell

To the Reader:

A couple days ago (at the time of writing this), I left Matt Diamond and Jorge Velez voicemails at 1 in the morning thanking them for everything they’ve conitributed. I left out everyone else because they were awake or I didn’t have their number. In the voicemails, I made note of how grateful I was for everyone that helped Funeral Sounds get to this point, where we’re putting up at the very least one new piece a day and tons of submissions weekly and it seems like every week we get to do something we never thought possible for this little blog.

Since that day in September 2012, Chase and I never thought Funeral Sounds would amount to much, but here we are, putting out a zine, the label is back up and we’re now a one man operation and we’re stronger than we’ve ever been. I never could’ve done this without Chase or any of our writers and I’m eternally grateful for what they’ve done for Funeral Sounds and for me as a person. The Funeral Sounds staff are people I consider some of my closest friends and I care about all of them immensely and can never fully explain how much they mean to me.

And to you, thank you. Thank you for supporting us and reading this zine and reading this sappy love letter to everyone that’s helped Funeral Sounds become what it is now. It honestly amazes me every day and I say a little thank you to everyone in my head before I go to sleep each night.

Thank you.

Here’s a formal list of people I want to thank personally:

Chase Jennewine George Garza Jr. Gio Prieto Dandy Eckert

Olive our writers Hunter Mann Billy Philhower Stephen Alcala Nicole Celenza Kehan Larivee Tanner Kelley Franco Tort Armand Garcia Alex Scheel Jorge Gonzalez Jake Dixon

Louis Hunter-Lanza Alex Moore Alex Dunn Kevin Hanrahan Hunter Guffy Tyler Sharp Jenna Ruland Jesse Warner

And a ton of others I forgot and, of course, once again, all of our readers and everyone who keeps up with all the dumb stuff we involve ourselves in. It really does mean the world. Here’s to another year. Thank you.

- Mark Garza

Owner/Co-Founder

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comes from this record’s cathartic opener, Ballgame. “Because I’m selfish enough to want to get better, but I’m backwards enough to not take any steps to get there.” That one lyric is so reflective of how self-aware this entire record is of its want for progress despite having flaws. This record is important.

CHECK OUT: Ballgame, Noose Dressed Like A Necklace, Tapdance Split The Country, Split The Street, released in 2005, was one of Devine’s heaviest records. The opener, Cotton Crush, is an angst-driven look into the life of furthering vices that come with age and maturity. Deep inside this record there’s an angry teenager who’s reluctantly growing up. It’s completely put together while altogether divided which makes this record such a different listening experience.

CHECK OUT: Cotton Crush, Alabama Acres, You Are The Daybreak

KEVIN DEVINE DOES STUFF

By Jorge Velez (That’s him in the picture.)

Kevin Devine made his voice heard as a folk singer with a career that spans more than ten years over the course of eight studio albums. So much can happen over the course of that many albums that a small look into his discography would help new listeners better understand them.

Circle Gets The Square, released in 2002, was Devine’s first studio album. Many of his albums are heavily acoustic, but this one stands out, as it’s exactly what you’d imagine an acoustic album to be. Swelling guitars, rhythmic tambourines, and soothing melodies make this album in a sense, typical. Yet, it’s so youthful and when compared to the artist he becomes, it develops a sort of quirky charm.

CHECK OUT: Write Your Story Now, Guys With Record Collections, Protest Singer Make The Clocks Move, released in 2003, is personally my favorite Kevin Devine record.

The intimacy and honesty on this record tugs at one’s heartstrings and lightly jabs at one’s tear ducts. One of my favorite lyrics of all time

Put Your Ghost To Rest, released in 2006, was a politically driven album. It heavily focused on the connection of the folk singer and their acoustic guitar. He’s so passionate as he drives home his message. This record encourages leaving the past behind and moreover, learning where to go once you finally realize you’re stuck in the present.

CHECK OUT: Brooklyn Boy, You’re Trailing Yourself, Just Stay Brother’s Blood, released in 2009, is one of Devine’s oddest records. Lyrically, instrumentally, and sentimentally it is all so abstract. His images are wild and vivid, the instrumentals are simple yet ambitious, and the sentiments are sincere and painful. This whole record wavers between the haze of sickness and the stability of normalcy and is almost uncomfortable to listen to at times. Yet, it’s so moving which makes it a necessary listen.

CHECK OUT: Carnival, Brother’s Blood, I Could Be With Anyone Between The Concrete & Clouds, released in 2012, is possibly Devine’s most introspective record. There seems to be an especially prominent religious vibe on this record as Devine questions who he is and who he used to be, and what that really means. This cumulates into this mysterious and edgy ambiance that defines this record and sets it apart from everything he’s ever done. Just listen to it, you’ll like it.

CHECK OUT: Between The Concrete & Clouds, 11-17, I Used To Be Someone Bulldozer, released in 2013, is his Kickstarter funded solo record. Devine put aside a lot of time to make these songs an in-

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timate experience between the listener and the musician. This record is so intelligently designed as it sets news commentary to the sound of soothing indie rock tunes. Devine seems to fully understand his musicianship on this record and confidently embraces his ability with colorful melodies and brash instrumentals.

CHECK OUT: Little Bulldozer, She Can See Me, For Eugene Bubblegum, released in 2013, is his Kickstarter funded full band record. Devine shows us being manic has never been so fun. Fiscal Cliff is so politically charged yet so incredibly angst driven. Devine sums up his whole career one this one record by being angry yet catchy, fun but serious, and smooth and rigorous. This will definitely become a favorite of mine from his discography as years go by.

CHECK OUT: Fiscal Cliff, Redbird, Private First Class Kevin Devine is one of the most heartfelt musicians of our generation. His music doesn’t just encourage self-progress, it asks the world to wake up and look at what’s going on around. His words are cleverly crafted and his spirit is unmatched, so even if you try to overlook him, he’ll win you over. There are eight studio records for you to engross yourself in completely; the only question is where to start. It’s your choice. I sincerely hope you get as much out of his music as I have. Kevin Devine is important, and if you didn’t know, now you know.

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“to an ex girlfriend�

By Billy Philhower

you told me to write a poem and i did i wrote about leaving home and leaving you and listening to death cab for cutie and how it felt to fall in love with someone you couldnt have But then i did this is what I wrote i saw the sun in the creases of her back and when i saw her in the morning she had desert lips and i wondered why i played with the sleeve of the shirt you left behind while she played with me and somehow the two made sense to me i wanted to be your beautiful boy i wanted you to be proud i know im worthless Maybe if i take enough nyquil ill be with you again because thats a dream that i would dream passed out in my bed i want you in the most innocent sense. i want you in a field of butterflies im slipping off now, im sorry. the room is spinning or i am twirling you around in a field somewhere. its all perspective. im sorry you ever wanted me i dont know how i feel about anything what does feeling feel like i passed out again thinking of you

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“Damsel in Dis’ Dress”

By Jonathon Peters

But she forgot what it felt like to be touched, slow fingertips sliding across her sensibility, wiping away the dust that settled on her heart.

I will love you with broken fingers and a hasty heart with wild affection; I will love you the way they have forgotten you.

From a young age, we’re shown that putting pieces back together was a game that only few had the pension for and even less the desire.

Our children play with people like they play with puzzles, they give up when they can’t make the person the picture they wanted them to be.

I am praying I haven’t left my fingerprints on broken body parts with the arrogance in my eyes to believe I can fix them.

My love, it has been long since love has been anything more than lacking letters or hollow bible verses to you, but I was talking to God last night and He was as angry as you’ve grown cold, at all the eyes that pass by you closed.

I told Him that I’d love you with all of my strength, but He said that gentle hearts had the softest hands and that you are smooth skin yet to be caressed by a man not trying to be Him. I have only oh so much, limited man that I am, but I’d weave the stars into your hair if you became a part of my universe; I’ll kiss your sullen skin, so long as you’ll trust yourself to trust that I’m not trying to save you.

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“situational awareness”

“On Love and Longboards”

on a waterbed i become a corpse whose teeth are full of salt

I regret not wearing a helmet; I didn’t think when falling for you, I’d land like this.

By Karsten Kelsey

and still beautiful knowing this it’s possible for me to get a perfect sort of

By Jonathon Peters

I wonder if this concrete tastes anything like your kiss.

sleep as long as i hold my breath

“with my heart a thermometer”

“Safe as a ship”

callous as the windows in a blue storm we shutter the caves

She walked three blocks, to be buried with me I kept my hands in my pockets, writhe my fingers with nerves She would shove her tongue in passed my lips, until I steadily gave way And after all that buzz, I felt so dead She walked three blocks to my dead end, for me to fill her up with my skin And we died each time

By Karsten Kelsey

within the business of our bone structure with candy wrappers everywhere we’ve been with blurry camera phone photography of cold fronts

By Jose Perez

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Credit to Conner Sgarbossa

Nai Harvest @ Tipsy, 26 September 2013 by Ben Curttright

Evan Weiss @ Borderline, 10 November 2013 by Ben Curttright

Youth Pictures of Florence Henderson @ Catch by Ben Curttright

Yuck @ The Macbeth. 19 September 2013 by Ben Curttright

EMO (For Lack of A Better Title)

But, I didn’t want to write about Tawny Peaks because of its instrumental quality or because it’s particularly new or relevant or current or whatever.

By Ben Curttright

The emo scene in 2013 is so much bigger and more diverse than it was when I first found an extremely low-quality YouTube link Two weeks ago, I was riding the bus through central to “Song About an Angel” by Sunny Day Real Estate when I was London at 3 pm. It was deeply cloudy, and the sky threat- a sophomore in high school and spent the evening listening to ened rain. No, more than that. It promised rain. It had it on repeat in my parents’ basement. Essentially, the growth of been days since I last saw the sun. the scene is a good thing. There are more people getting into bands that had a positive impact on my life and sharing sigI sat on the lower level of the bright red double-decker. nificant music with real feeling and making DIY emo or punk When you first get to England, there’s a bit of a novelty or whatever in garages and basements and even sometimes factor in sitting on the upper floor of the bus, but after bathrooms, apparently. But, when the cup gets bigger, the liquid you’ve done it once, it really isn’t worth the effort. Espe- within always gets diluted, so to speak. Not every twinkly band cially during rush hour. The stairs get crowded, and it’s is worth connecting with. It takes more than listening to Amercompletely possible to become trapped in the aisle and ican Football to make good music. Emo has always been about miss your stop and the stop after because there are peo- intimate self-expression, and when a style of music starts to ple in the way and you really don’t feel like shoving past become stale and derivative, the artist’s personal connection to them or, you know, actually speaking to them and asking his or her or their work starts to get lost in a desire to sound a them to move out of the way because it’s intimidating certain way or appeal to a certain kind of audience or mimic a to see a queue of Londoners standing silently, looking certain band. down at phones or books, looking straight ahead at the wall, and the last thing you ever want to be is the loud, I’m so lucky to be writing for FS on what has unfortunately obnoxious American, so you just wait; or, you sit on the become a semi-regular basis (college is hard sometimes) belower level with headphones on and sort of retreat within cause I get to hear so many new bands in their formative stages. yourself a bit for the ten or fifteen or twenty minutes it You know, when they’ve just finished their first basement demo takes to get from Shoreditch to Holborn. and they’re excited about it and sending it off to any and every And that’s what I did. I plugged my iPhone in and searched for something that I hadn’t heard in a while, something that wasn’t so quiet that it would drain me of my remaining bit of energy or so chaotic that it would jar with the overcast English afternoon. After the usual thirty seconds of indecision, I settled on the recently added Tawny Peaks self-titled LP.

blog that will write something about it, even the ones like us with 500 or so readers, and it’s unpolished and raw and maybe not the best technically or lyrically, but it’s, you know, there and real and what someone else somewhere else really feels about their life or relationships or circumstances or whatever. And it’s really great, but sometimes, it can be a bit hard to keep forming connections with every piece of new music I’m exposed to. It all starts to blend together into an intimidating cacophony of screamed vocals and melodic guitars and I retreat into my safe bubble of EndSerenading and What It Takes to Move Forward because I already know how to relate to those albums and I don’t have to think to do it.

Tawny Peaks sort of went either over my head or under my radar when their album came out in 2012. I discovered it buried in some Facebook post by drummer Dexter Loos; one of those “Link yr band” threads that consistently crops up in emo groups. I downloaded the album But, as I stepped off the bus on 3 October in London, and the one day in August, added it to my iTunes that night, and first acoustic guitar riff of “March Sadness” by Tawny Peaks promptly forgot about it until 3 October 2013. echoed through my headphones, and a few light drops of rain splattered down across my glasses, and hundreds ofa people That was a bit of a mistake. I’m not even going to preI didn’t know crowded around me, blended together into one tend that this is a proper review, but I will step back for a vague approximation of ‘others’, and the vocals came in, pure moment to say that the whole album is really solid. The and soft, singing exactly what I felt at that moment: “And I’m vocal harmonies are spot-on, the guitar work is fluid, thinking there’s nothing right and nothing wrong”, I just, I realand it’s just off-tempo enough to be interesting without ized that this is music and this is what emo does and maybe it’s throwing the listener off. “With Steps”, “The Tree Song”, cheesy to say, but right then, I felt something, and I guess I’ve and “Bring Back The Mountain” are particularly strong just been trying to describe it here, and I don’t know. tracks, full of energy and creativity.

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untitled

By Franco Tort i want to start a poem by saying that “i am in love with a girl”. seven words, seven syllables and 7 million metaphors, like “her hair is a voice-mail that sits in your inbox, it tangles like tree branches after a hurricane.” or “her body is a galaxy far away and my heart is a telescope that doesn’t focus quite right, but there is always a moment when her stars are clear and my smile can span oceans”. and they would be honest metaphors. i want to start a poem by saying that “i am in love with a girl” but i won’t because girls are not poems, they are hopes and dreams and passions and plans for the future, even if maybe they’re a bit unclear right now (whose aren’t at 19?). a girl is not a “her heart is” or “her eyes are”, a girl is whatever the fuck she wants to be, and she writes her own metaphors every day, a million more than there are words that i could speak.

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Boulevard in the rain today listening to this record I realized I’d been listening to this record expecting it to give something to me. If we’re all equals, then how can I expect it to give to me, if I haven’t given to it? A band I know next to nothing about put out their art to the world and I was disgruntled with it because it wasn’t giving me anything to talk about. My mistake was the expectation of just being handed a deep meaning that would inspire words to come out of my mouth.

Who It Is: Creech – Pasture; Self-Released (2013) What It Sounds Like: teen suicide, Pill Friends, salvia palth Review: It’s been a while since I’ve reviewed an album so I’m in the process of relearning my craft. Bare with me. This album has been sitting on iPod for three weeks or so, and every time I listen to it I’m like “I like this. This is cool.

That part was nice. Alright.” And then the album is over and I don’t feel like I took away anything from listening to it, or at least anything worth writing about. So I tell myself, “Alright, I’ll wait a few days, listen again, and then maybe that’ll be the time it hits me.” It’s taken me three weeks to realize I’ve been approaching this record all wrong.

I originally picked up this album because Mark (the delicate flower who runs Funeral Sounds) told me that Jack (of Merchant Ships/Midwest Pen Pals/William Bonney/ North Folk) loved this album and thought it was one of his favorite records to come out this year. I thought, “If Jack loves this record, then it must be pretty good.” So I download it and what do you know? It’s right up my alley. Kind of trudging sad indie pop, perfect, right? Well here we are three weeks later.

This is the kind of record you have to work for. It’s been a long time since I’ve heard a record like this and it helped remind me of one of the more beautiful aspects of music.

At first glance it’s easy to mark this off as sad pop, maybe listen to it twice, and then move on without ever listening to it again. But there’s so much more than that on this record. The incredibly vulnerable movements of piano and guitar over gentle vocals on “Domer” are captivating. The stuttering brokenness of “Judas Tree” that falls into the catchy “Sadhill Cemetery” is full of longing and heartbreak. The drumming by Will Paulson on the whole goddamn record is so on point with what bassist Jack Aldrich plays, and it creates such a tight rhythm section.

I love it all.

This record made me a lot more introspective than I thought it would because I sat down and gave it the fair chance it deserved. Music is made (or at least good music) to be an extension of one’s self through sound.

All the happiness, sadness, aching, longing, etc. is to be constructed into music and that extension is furthered when someone else listens to it and the bridge between musician and listener is created. Creech made themselves heard, and now understood too. Pasture is a 2013 release that shouldn’t be overlooked, as there’s so much said in the 32 minutes of this record. Unless I’m just looking at it too hard. But I don’t think I am.

Favorite Track(s): Judas Tree, Sadhill Cemetery, General Sherman Overall Rating: 7.8/10 Facebook Bandcamp - Jorge Velez

It’s best summarized by the last track “General Sherman” when their vocalist Rob Paulson says “Am I evil to be so hateful to my equals.” As I walked down Northern 12

END OF A YEAR

By Eli Shively

psyche. The hooks are as catchy as ever, but they soon give way to spacier, trippier material that shows what Powers is truly capable of as an artist.

2013 was a great year for music in that it was so diverse. Not a single genre stood out to me this year as the one with the best new releases, instead, there seemed to be fresh and exciting stuff all across the board. That’s why I’m going to forego the traditional end-of-the-year countdown and instead bring you several of my favorite albums from 2013, in no particular order. Feel free to disagree with my naïve indie kid self.

Into It. Over It. – Intersections

Vampire Weekend – Modern Vampires Of The City Mainstream indie sucks. Vampire Weekend, however, doesn’t suck. They took the simple-yet-poppy sound that exploded in popularity around the time they were formed, and added some new, creative sounds that set them apart. Not to mention the incredible songwriting talent of Ezra Koenig. On this album, they bring back a lot of what made them so unique in the first place, and mix in some softer, dreamier songs that showcased the expanding patience and maturity of a band that always seemed too grown up for their age in the first place. I can’t find a single bad song on it.

Deafheaven – Sunbather Yeah, I know that everything I could possibly say about this album has already been reiterated hundreds of times on hundreds of blogs just like this one, but who cares? Deafheaven not only had the best metal album of the year, but they blurred more genre lines than any band of their kind that I’ve heard before. Granted, I’m not the biggest fan of their genre, but Sunbather just so happens to be one of those albums that’s hard for anyone to hate. Or rather, anyone to not love.

Death Grips – Government Plates This is Death Grips simply re-proving the already wellknown fact that they don’t care what anyone thinks of them.

Their already spastic, out-of-control hip hop just gets even crazier, but it still manages to be a pleasurable listen. Death Grips are slowly transitioning from boundary pushing and experimental to straight-up chaos, but the chaos is never out of place and always well controlled. Death Grips have rewritten the rules once again.

Youth Lagoon – Wondrous Bughouse If there was a truly underappreciated indie record this year, it was Wondrous Bughouse. Trevor Powers (who goes by the stage name Youth Lagoon) delivers some introspective, kaleidoscopic dream pop that explores the far reaches of his 13

2013 was the year that introduced me to emo, and Evan Weiss’s “quasi-solo” project Into It. Over It. quickly became one of my favorites. You’re probably all more than familiar with this album, but to me it represents exactly what I love about a genre that’s still pretty unfamiliar to me: It’s revealing, musically intricate, and connects with the listener in all the right ways.

The Wonder Years – The Greatest Generation Pop punk isn’t supposed to be deep, but The Wonder Years were never a run-of-the-mill pop punk band anyways. With The Greatest Generation, they’ve created some of the most emotionally moving music I’ve ever heard from a band of the genre. Some of the moments on this album were enough to figuratively stop me in my tracks. The brutal honesty and desperation is oftentimes so in-your-face that it’s hard to not focus all of your attention on it. The Wonder Years have always been known for never holding anything back, but they’ve really outdone themselves with this one.

Some other stuff that I want to mention: Danny Brown – Old Tiny Moving Parts – This Couch Is Long & Full Of Friendship Dance Gavin Dance – Acceptance Speech Kanye West – Yeezus Speedy Ortiz – Major Arcana This is probably longer than Ben’s already, and there’s a ton of other things that I want to add, but I think it’s about time to wrap this up. I hope everybody loved 2013 as much as I did, and that 2014 proves to be even better.

“Immersion”

By Stephen Alcala This is the first drawing in a series that kind of examines my own faith but through an outside perspective. At first glance, I’ve been told that it looks like a piece that evokes the classic “something beautiful can come from something dark” sentiment but I intend for this piece to do the opposite. It’s immediately after the model comes up from being baptized, immersed completely and you can tell from her expression that it was an uncomfortable experience, and that there’s something eerie in a seemingly beautiful act: dedication to a higher cause. For me, I reached a point where I couldn’t reconcile faith with logic; at some point, I saw the pointlessness of promising my life to something I now find damaging and counterproductive, especially when it comes to its impedance of cultural and social progress. So “Immersion” was never meant to highlight some sort of beauty or romanticism: it’s meant to highlight the darkness that surrounds and drowns any appreciable quality that the romanticism may have possessed at one time.

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“For Your Convienience�

By Stephen Alcala This is our monster. Fanaticism of any kind, especially that which hinders progress, is a monster that many exploit when it easy for them to do so. The religious imagery signifies faith, and not just strictly faith of a religious nature, but faith in anything: anything that we place an exuberant amount of value upon so that it becomes divine or inarguable to us. It perpetuates an ignorance that rarely if ever is overcome, putting people at odds or causing a hatred for one another, especially when current events summon such zeal. Just like the relic and the image of the angel is not a literal being, such emotions can be exaggerated or contrived, manufactured to fit an ideology we feel is the absolute and singular course to follow. This is our monster, and it always seems to go on sale when we need it to.

Scowler @ Scheme City by Tyler Mantz

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“introspect.”

By Bryce Apodaca you are oxygen nicotine life you are the caffeine nestled in the bottom of my last cup of coffee. you are three a.m. creative and last night’s binge. too many sentences started with if only remind me that you’re still a possibility, even if it’s a long shot. beneath the stars i have kissed more lovers than i’ve loved. so i hid you in my bedroom and rested beneath the cover of the solidarity and the illusion that you were mine and mine alone. loneliness doesn’t rhyme with your name but it is defined by the footsteps i still see stained across the tile. i’ll keep standing in my bathroom puking up regret until i learn to stand up to the face inside the mirror or until i see you again. it’s hard enough to lose yourself without your reflection there to prove it.

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Credit to Allee Errico

Credit to Miguel Vasquez

"What is it you human beings really want from each other? ...Is this your heart's desire, then--for the two of you to become parts of the same whole, as near as can be, and never to separate, day or night? Because if that's your desire, I'd like to weld you together and join you into something that is naturally whole, so that the two of you are made into one. Then the two of you would share one life, as long as you lived, because you would be one being, and by the same token, when you died, you would be one and not two in Hades, having died a single death. Look at your love, and see if this is what you desire." --Plato, Symposium

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Credit to Conner Sgarbossa

Credit to Garrett Brickell

“Davis ‘10”

By Jose Perez

My teeth fell out during the accident, I spun around and said, “there’s no fun in being dead.’

So we met up, wore sheets, rest in piece that night we scared everyone not just you and me, being life-less

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“Drop. Out.”

By Christopher Martinez I read a comic once It said that Sociology is just applied biology which is applied chemistry which is applied physics and physics is just applied math So really everything is math and I hate math So do I hate everything?

That’s a philosophy question Which is applied thinking or thought But wait. do I hate everything?

Do I hate Sunshine and Rainbows?

Do I hate sun and shine and rain and bows?

Bows.

The ones that send arrows flying hundreds of feet into the air like your thoughts in a philosophy class bows like the ones in your daughter’s hair your only daughter who will kill herself at 17 because some boy didn’t like her back or maybe not bows Bows like how I’ll bow low when I ask for your father’s blessing not really for the marriage but because I’m taking his daughter and soon enough I’ll know what its like to lose a daughter BUT WAIT Do i Hate

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Everything?

No Because I love you and you and you and you and you you you you youyouyouyou Not You But I’m warming up to you I do hate myself not for any particular imperfection Im tall handsome charming I hate myself because I cant save you Because everyone of you will suffer and I cant stop it I want to save every single one of you In psychology that might be referred to as a god complex In biology, maladaptation In chemistry a chemical imbalance In physics the act of me imposing myself on you and in math no matter how many times I throw myself at that empty set in your heart you still get zero

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cohesive of works, still manages to deliver in that Spellman develops his own voice and character throughout its 30-plus minutes. It’s an interesting and engaging listen, one that feels more like an exploration than an exposition. It does take two tracks from The Carolina EP, which coincidentally are the two most out-of-place sounding songs on the album.

Minus these two, however, the record is difficult to stop once it starts.

Despite its often-plodding tempo, this album seems to not stop to catch its breath once it gets going. Tracks like “Beach Chair” and “Parallel Voyage” are more poppy and upbeat, but flow nicely into songs such as “USM” and “Twenty And Four Days”, which represent the drawn-out, psychedelic journeys the album has to offer. Cohesion plays a big factor in what makes this album engaging, and Spellman achieves it with ease, breaking up longer songs with shorter ones and making sure the different elements of the album don’t clash too harshly with one another.

Who It Is: Vintage Revolver – Glaciers…Beach; Self-Released (2013) What It Sounds Like: Psychedelic synth-pop Review: A developing trend in the landscape of modern music is the imitation of decades past. Bands like Tame Impala and Factory Floor have made a name for themselves by taking the best elements from the music of the 70’s and 80’s, respectively, and skillfully blending it with certain characteristics of the music of today. This combination of past and present make for some excellent music when done right, however, there are countless bands still trying to find the right balance between what is and what has been.

As a whole, Glaciers…Beach provides a much clearer window into the mind of Forrest Spellman than The Carolina EP ever did. The album represents the smoothest, most captivating music that Vintage Revolver has to offer. While he’s not completely there yet, Spellman seems to be on his way to effectively mixing both past and present. Although there are still some rough moments, when he strikes the right balance, it provides a glimpse of the great things he can achieve with his music.

Overall Rating: 6.7/10 Facebook Bandcamp - Eli Shively

When I first reviewed The Carolina EP, the first recorded effort of Forrest Spellman, who makes music under the name Vintage Revolver, it came across as a project that struggled to find this exact balance. It took influence from the overproduced electronic pop of the 80’s, as well as some modern psychedelic works, but seemed to have a hard time finding its own identity. Some tracks felt to processed, some too erratic and emotional, and the EP as a whole was too much of a mixed bag to really interest me at all.

Now that Spellman has finished recording his first full-length, entitled Glaciers…Beach, it’s clear that he’s made some progress as both a songwriter and an artistic visionary. The album, while not the most complete and

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“crunch but not too much crunch” in the guitars which is a tone very difficult to get right.

The next tune “Me, A Ham” sounds like a couple of sad boys listened to an Ape up! tune and instantly decided to start a band. The riffing is bouncy and poppy and the guitars start adding more straightforward lead parts which is nice break away from the twinkles that absolutely shower this EP. The next song “But the good news is….I want bees” is what I consider the weak link on this otherwise solid release. At only a minute long, the song offers little to nothing that separates it from the rest of the EP, falling into obscurity and being easily forgotten.

Who It Is: Uncle/Father Oscar –Whami Guam Brad; Sorry Girls Records (2013) What It Sounds Like: Twinkle Jawnz, Marietta, Glocca Morra, Algernon Worship.

Review: I’m pretty pissed off at the moment of writing this review. My laptop is busted so I am forced to use my work’s laptop to write reviews during break and at hope I have been subjected to using a low end tablet to do miscellaneous web browsing doings. So I’m listening to this EP as I review the album (Fire me Mark I dare you) But regardless, Uncle/Father Oscar is what I’m assuming to be a reference to Arrested Development (Which totally wins opening skramz points in my book) and is also a Philly Based emo punk outfit who have given us a solid debut EP entitled Whami Guam Brad which like most bands of this genre, brings the twinkly licks, the gang vocals, and the catchy groove changes while still retaining its own little charm, which is definitely something that is missing from a lot of bands in this particular genre.

The album begins with “Soccer Cousins” which offers you the standard drawn out twinkle riff followed by a mess of shouty gang vocals. The singer has an interesting voice in that it is hard to tell if he is forcing a shaky mastery over pitch or if he just is naturally a shaky singer, but it definitely fits with the somewhat wonky and quirky style of the instrumentals. The riffing style is heavily reminiscent of Glocca Morra and the overall mix is fairly decent for the type of music being played.

The twinkly licks are backed by a good amount of

The EP picks up again with “Weed TV” and “You Sane Bolt” which both begin with their own respective twinkly licks, the former ending with another nice collection of gang vocals and the latter with a neat slow moving pitch shift before slowly fading out. The drumming is creative but could use a little bit of tightening up to match the very percussive play style that the guitars use throughout the EP. As the songs go by, the whiny vocals can wane heavy on the ears at times but luckily the extensive use of gang vocals take the edge off and leave you with less of a feeling of “God this kid won’t shut up” and more of a feeling of “Wow, these kids won’t shut up” which is an aesthetic that I’ve always found pleasing in emo-punk as it gives the listener insight into the chemistry of the band as people themselves and how they’re all suffering from similar feelings that they can let loose in the form of dense shouty gang vocals.

The presentation could use a little bit of polish and it sounds like the bands is still trying to hone their signature sound, but Uncle/Father Oscar is definitely on the right path. While the band absolutely shows promise, someone who is just gliding by in the emo world might overlook them as just another twinkle daddy clone, but with further listening and inspection it becomes very apparent that these fellas know how to write songs and are more than able to add their own signature blend of sad boy spices to the gumbo that is the emo world. Whami Guam Brad is all in all a solid first release and considering I was able to get into it for the most part with only two full listens, I absolutely look forward to more from them in the future.

P.S. They have super sick looking cassettes of this EP on Sorry Girls records so that definitely wins extra skramz points in my book.

Overall Rating: 6.7/10 Facebook Bandcamp - Matt Diamond

of the show. One of the bands that was playing got in an altercation with the dad and they yelled at each other.

And one of the kids in one of the bands actually ended up knocking him out.

AB: Oh, damn.

Yeah. So we referred to that band as the dad punchers and it just became the epitome of the worst punk band name we could think of.

AB: Is the songwriting process different in Dad Punchers vs. playing in Touché Amore?

Yeah, it’s much different. Touché is very collaborative.

It’s kind of like we’ll all show up and we’ll contribute riffs and play off each other and work together as a team, whereas dad punchers is essentially me sitting in my room recording a guitar riff and then looping it and trying other things on top of it and flashing out drum parts and just doing it myself. There’s virtually no collaboration with Dad Puncher stuff.

INTERVIEW: Dad Punchers

By Alex Boundy/Mark Garza

A couple weeks ago, Father Mark and I had the pleasure of interviewing Elliot Babin, (Touché Amore/Dad Punchers). Keep reading to find out more about his new project, Dad Punchers, which features himself along with other members of bands like Joyce Manor.

AB: For the record, please state your name and what you do in Dad Punchers.

My name is Elliot and I play guitar, sing, and do the other things on recording in Dad Punchers.

AB: When did the project come together? Was it a gradual process, or did you just sit down one weekend and record the EP? It’s been a gradual process. It kind of started out as me wanting to assemble songs by myself from the ground up and I was kind of doing it in secret because it wasn’t something that I wanted to do very publicly. I was embarrassed about it. So, I made a couple songs in secret like 2 years ago and ever since then it’s been gradually building.

AB: Where did the name ‘Dad Punchers’ come from?

There’s a bunch of different stories I tell about the name.

Let’s see which one I’m going to go with today, [laughs]. The actual story is that there was a house show that a friend of mine’s band played and it occurred while this kid’s parents were out of town. And the parents came home in the middle

AB: Is it less stressful?

Well, it’s both less stressful and more stressful. It’s more stressful because there’s nobody to put you in check and tell you that what you’re doing sucks, whereas that kind of thing will happen in a collaborative effort. You know, people will be like, “Ah, I’m not into that. Let’s try this instead.” Whereas [with Dad Punchers] I’m just kind of doing it myself, hoping that it comes out okay.

AB: Who are your biggest musical influences?

Let’s see here. I’m a gigantic Weakerthans fan. They’re probably my favorite band. Yo La Tengo. There’s a band from Denton called the Teenage Cool Kids. The Mountain Goats, the Microphones. I can’t deny that Blink 182 is one of my favorite bands ever. That kind of thing.

MG: What gear do you use for your guitar?

I’m constantly going through different guitar gear; trying new stuff, selling it, modifying new stuff, really liking it, and then getting over it. I currently own 4 guitars.

I have a Squier telecaster that I wrote the first record with. It’s been my primary guitar. I also have an Ampeg Dan Armstrong, which is that clear guitar, the super see-through thing. I really like that guitar, but it’s super heavy so I haven’t been using it that much. Oh, and I recently just got a Jazzmaster that I’ve been switching out the pickups on. I also bought a Squier mustang that I’ve been switching out pickups on. I don’t consider myself a very proficient guitar player, but I get a lot of enjoyment with fiddling around with them: tearing out electronics, simplifying them, and kind of making them my own. So, 28

I’m going to start using that Jazzmaster I just got. I run it through a Traynor YBA-1 2x12, which is a Canadian amp manufacturer. And that’s my current set-up at the moment.

MG: Is there a reason you play in FACGCE? Is that an American Football homage?

It is. It is in a small way. Growing up, Joni Mitchell was always playing in the house and I was always really into the songs that I heard, and I was like “Why do these sound the way they do?” Well, a ton of her songs are in open tunings and I just kind of became preoccupied with open tunings. It makes you look at the guitar in a different way and approach it differently. But, yeah, that is the American Football tuning. And once again, I’m not a proficient enough guitar player to do all of that crazy noddle-y shit, so I just kind of stick to chords and things like that in open tunings.

MG: Do you have a favorite and most important tattoo? From what Jorge tells me, you get tattoos for fun.

[Laughs] Yeah, I have a bunch of weird tattoos. I’m definitely not a fan of tattoo culture, really, or anything like that. It doesn’t really speak to me. I kind of view it more like a human sketchpad. I have a bunch of super random tattoos. I have multiple friends with tattoo guns and I’ll just go over their house and be like, “Okay, let’s get a weathervane or a skateboard today.”

I do have a couple tattoos that have meanings behind them, but those are kind of my least favorite. I just like the human sketchpad idea.

MG: On the subject of skateboards, are you into anything like that?

Yeah, that’s actually how I started playing drums. Me and all my friends I would skateboard with would get together every day and go to the same stair set at this one school and practice tricks down it. One of them got a drum kit and that was the first time I ever sat down at a drum set and played one. And I love skateboarding and I also bring one whenever I go on tour.

But I’m really afraid of breaking something and hurting myself, so I have to be careful. That’s kind of the extent of my extreme sport activity.

MG: It’s funny, because me and Boundy actually skate, and he told me that if I could do a kickflip and record it, he’d send me his old skateboard, since mine’s currently really messed up. I haven’t landed the kickflip yet, but I did this weird casper/tre-flip thing.

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Well stick with it. I remember the two biggest learning curves for me in skateboarding were learning how to ollie and learning how to kickflip. And I remember the day that I landed a kicklfip and how successful I felt. So stick with it, you’ll get it.

MG: What’s your favorite instrument to play? You play multiple instruments, right?

I do. I like different instruments for different reasons. I would say playing drums is a very cathartic experience.

I feel a great deal of release after playing a show or just sitting down to play drums. For that, the physical aspect of that is very rewarding. But in terms of just tone and sitting down and messing around, the piano, for me, is kind of unparalleled. I’ll get super excited if I go over to a friend’s or I wind up somewhere where there’s a grand piano at the house – that, for me, is a day-maker. I just think they’re one of the most beautiful instruments.

MG: How did Matt Ebert from Joyce Manor end up playing bass on the LP? Matt and I have been friends for a while now, coming up on 10 years at this point. Me, Barry, and Matt Ebert used to play in bands together when I was in high school, so they’ve all been long-time buds. He’s directly in my friend group and we hang out a lot. And when I told him I was working on doing my own stuff, I thought it would be a good idea if I just kind of gave up control on one instrument so I didn’t go completely crazy and I thought he could contribute in the area of bass because he’s a very talented dude. He was interested in doing it, so we got together and he came by the studio. It was good to have him be a part of it.

AB: I’ve seen that you describe the band as “bummer punk.” How would you describe this to someone who’s never heard your music before?

Well, what kind of person am I talking to? Am I talking to someone who’s vaguely alternative and aware of some bands? Am I talking to an adult wh-MG: Can we do this in multiple scenarios?

The “bummer punk” thing is just a bullshit genre I came up with because I didn’t feel comfortable labeling it as anything else. But unfortunately you kind of have to label it. Otherwise people don’t know if you’re a hip hop or bluegrass outfit. If I’m explaining it to someone who’s – you know – let’s say works at Starbucks, and knows all of the Starbucks CDs like Death Cab, then I’d say it’s like an indie rock band I guess. But if I was talking to a 50 year old, I would say it’s kind of like rock and roll and I like the Beach Boys a lot. [Laughs] It’s all about finding the

common ground.

AB: Who are your favorite bands out right now?

Let’s see here. I’m a gigantic RVIVR fan. There’s a local band from around here called Merry Christmas that I’m a big fan of. Pianos Become the Teeth; they’re just the best live band I’ve ever seen. It’s funny because I, sometimes I feel like an irresponsible musician because I spend a lot of time listening to older music and stuff that isn’t very current, so I kind of feel out of touch for a question like this. Like every year when people are assembling their best records of the year, I’m here like “I don’t even think I can name 10 records that came out this year.” But, you know, all of my contemporaries and my buds have put out some great records. Balance and Composure put out an incredible record this year. I feel very honored to be surrounded by such talented people all of the time. All of the music they’re making is just incredible.

AB: Do you have any touring planned for Dad Punchers in the future?

The Europe thing is coming up; I’m leaving for Europe in a week. That tour’s going to be Dad Punchers, Self Defense Family, and Touche, so I’ll be on double-duty every night for a month. I’d love to do a West Coast tour when I get back or maybe sometime in the spring. I’d also like to do another US tour again.

[Several unsuccessful jokes and culinary discussions from Mark later] AB: Is there anything else you’d like to add before we go?

Nope. It’s been lovely chatting with you dudes. You guys take care.

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Credit to Jennifer Muir

“zero thirty, pitch black�

By Nick Spere

this is what defeat looks like. a broken typewriter, scribbled letters on the backs of photographs, scratched out, illegible my shattered words that i sent to you are all but lost which really means completely lost completely misused, abused, and thrown away like all the letters you sent to me that day. this is what defeat looks like. all our ties are broken, twisted, bent out of shape i could not mend what was never right, where do we go back? i cannot find the beginning anymore. all our letters burned, all our words dead and the symbols and meaning we made is gone with my friends i hope that i may see you again this is what defeat looks like. maybe we can try again. cliche after cliche. attempt at patterns. this is what defeat looks like.

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cluding a sweet ass cover of Joan of Arc’s “Lets Wrestle”) 06. P.S.118 - Staying Better New Jersey twinkle-kiddies P.S.118 grace the punklands with their Algernon-inspired brand of emo with Staying Better. Just enough obvious influences to be familiar, just enough originality to not be overlooked. Really cool blue cassette with….yellow stuff on it?

05. Joy Sores - Riding High

Cassettes Of The Year

By Matt Diamond

My boy Parker Lawson of tap-crazy Texas duo Two Knights takes to the drum kit for some fuzzy, reverb heavy, my I have decided to combat Mr. Curttright’s AOTY with a list bloody valentine dick sucking of my own. Within the past year since obtaining the tiny madness in his newest project terror that us my 2003 Toyota Corolla, I have found myself Joy Sores and absolutely dein a growing collection of cassettes. Maybe they don’t sound stroys my car speakers, and I good. Maybe they’re cumbersome to carry around. Maybe love it. Definitely the trippiest they’re irritating to continually rewind and fast forward. But looking cassette I have so far. goddamn do they look cool, and thats all that about anything ever.

04. Pokey - Everything I used to like changed for the worse and So without further annoyance, I present to you my COTY. everything I’ve always hated stayed the same 08. Leer - SPRINGBREAKNOPARENTS Man what a mouthful. (Suck it TWIABP jk ily) This neato Awesome skramzy/mathy brand of Black Flag inspired punk with a hint of jazz charging hardcore punk riffs influences. Really cool purple combined with an interesting cassette with what I can only use of somewhat twinkly leads coated in a thick layer of fuzz assume is the album title and some slight jazz influences make this release a solid written in Japanese characdebut by Pokey. Each cassette is scribbled on making them ters. Unfortunately it only unique from one another. I’ll be sure to score a few hundred comes in a cardboard case. bucks for it on merch swap in 2018.

07. My Dad - Collection 20112013 In the short time that Chicago based math-punkers My Dad have been around they have graced the emo world with a solid amount of releases and present all of them in one neatly packed collection (In33

03. Sorority Noise - Young Luck When Cameron Boucher isn’t melting the hearts of every sad boy within a 200 mile radius in his main band Old Gray, he’s kickin’ ass and taking names in his newest project Sorority Noise which shows a

much more straight-forward indie-punk approach to the emo-scene graced by bands such as Joyce Manor. Unfortunately I missed the opportunity to seize one of the first 50 pressed white cassettes that were released right when the EP dropped so I had to settle for the second pressing black cassettes. Still pretty darn rad though.

02. Bag of Bones - On Moving On Having the pleasure to meet the brainchild behind this fantastic solo project coursing with twinkly guitar riffs and some of the most emotionally hard hitting lyrics I’ve heard has definitely made my love of this release increase ever so effortlessly. John Molfetas of New York has been writing and recording under the moniker Bag of Bones for the past couple of years now and his latest full length On Moving On has only shown how much his songwriting prowess has improved. Really cool transparent green cassette. I still pout like a super weenie hut jr. whenever I hear the opening riff to “Memorial Park”.

01. Old Gray - An Autobiography While Old Gray were already rising up the ranks of the skramz world, their full length release An Autobiography earlier this year definitely showed their ability to combine emo-punk instrumentals with a post-rock influenced vibe and gut wrenching lyrics. “I still think about who I was last summer” definitely holds a special place in my little sad boy heart as song of the year and is only backed by a fantastic track list featured on this rad release.

Well, that’s enough of talking about obsolete forms of physical media. If you read this far, what the hell is wrong with you? Cassettes suck.

Love, Your one and Only D’

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“YOU & I IN DISSONANCE”

By Anna Serafini and Drake Birkner

it’s been a day & i’m already sinking. the light’s eating your whole body starting with your face. it was an alright face but now i can’t see it. you said “i think you should drown with me”: okay. you took me deeper than i should have let you, i’m sorry

i never told you in so many words, but i made a choice; if you drown me, i will still love you. & i can’t blame you, & i can’t blame myself either & i don’t know why i’m trying to blame anyone, i am not unhappy, i am alright or will be, i promise

(BUT I DON’T KNOW WHY I KEEP TRYING, THIS WAS ONLY A TRIAL PERIOD, I’M CRYING, PRESSED AGAINST YOUR CHEST, MY EYES ARE DISAPPEARING ONE LAST TIME, my lungs became liquid when you kissed me underneath the lights, I’LL BE FINE, I’LL BE FINE, I THINK IT’LL BE DIFwho said you could do that?

FERENT THIS TIME, me, mine, my mistake, but i don’t want to listen.

I’LL BE FINE) you made me promises & i believed them; your lies were lucid, i didn’t want to wake up. that night was the last before you were due to leave to cross countries & see things i want you to treat me poorly; i would never see, i don’t have to see past the lights & my throat hurt from to know about your face. screaming in my & biting my tongue, & i don’t care about what you’re hiding; & i woke up gasping & grasping for you i don’t have to see anything but my hands were empty. to know that i still want you, want you to gouge my eyes out, hold my breath for me so you held me & kissed my face & when your lips are too close to mine , i need this, i know told me half-truths, it’ll be okay, i’ll be back soon, i know, i don’t need a thing, i keep forgetting. i’ll write to you, i’ll miss you, i miss you, please, my mind is not mine, it’s all for you, my dear. my mind is not mine, it’s trying to explode, you’re beautiful because your body is a prison, i can see it in your bad posture & i’m okay with it. & you gripped my wrists so tightly bold promises & told lies & i’m okay with it, all of it, that i had to believe you, but i said, i’m not sure how to touch you but i can’t handle that there is flesh anymore, how to keep you from slipping away, on your bones & blood in your veins & you looked at me & kissed my mouth & said darling, & it is getting very hard for me to look at you; i will never ever leave; it is getting very hard for me to do anything at all. you had difficulty getting hard for me, i couldn’t blame you, you couldn’t blame me kissing circles into your skin, we aren’t getting anywhere. we aren’t getting anywhere.

& then, you got up & left.

& believe me i know why overflowing ashtrays follow you wherever you go, & i know about the pills & the drink & i know about the unfamiliar people in unfamiliar beds before me & i know you’ve tried to escape so many times, & i don’t blame you, i am just trying to love you enough that you won’t run from me, but it feels like we’re going in circles, the ashtrays are following me too, now, & you’re sleeping even less.

“cycles”

By Jesse Warner one two three four i declare a thumb war kids have kids have kids have kids finding comfort in the fact that in a few weeks time i’ll be a completely new person cycles in the way we live cycles in the way we die all i can think about is cellular mitosis electrodes in your brain cancer multiplies I woke up from a dream today that I got to see you again I hugged you and said “I’m sorry” repeatedly until you stopped crying Until I stopped crying Then I hugged you some more It will be okay one day We will be okay One day. kids have kids have kids have kids im becoming a b c d e f ghost kids have kids have kids have kids there wasn’t a toast this year

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Ardvarck @ Alderaan by Billy Brown

DEFEND HARSH NOISE

By Billy Hernandez 2013? More like who gives a shit. Full of Hell dropped FOH Noise Volume 4 and Bastard Noise dropped a sick split with Brutal Truth. Weed Thief put out like two tapes and those made me want to kick my dad’s ass along with the band Dads’ collective asses because I love powerviolence. There wasn’t enough harsh noise or, at least harsh noise I gave a fuck about.

We learned that every fuckin’ emo band pretty much sounds the same and that Obama is a reptile. You won’t truly be American Football until you skin Mike Kinsella and wear him like a coat you fucking morons. Mnwa released some cool stuff that I fucked with pretty hard and that caust/this is not for you split was rad as hell BUT IT WOULD BE NICE IF I GOT MY FUCKING SEVEN INCH IN THE MAIL THANKS IT’S A TRAP RECORDS. Yeezus was garbage and didn’t feature enough of Kanye west screaming about tripping on PCP and getting his dick sucked so he fucked up Death Grips worship worse than Death Grips did on Government Plates. The only rap album that mattered this year was Unknown Death 2002 by Yung Lean and if you disagree you’ll be swimming with the fishes. Don’t fuck with me. I listened to a lot of black metal this year. NSBM needs to fuck off because I hate finding cool black metal and then realizing their vocalist runs a shitty anti-Semitic zine. Good going you kvlt fuckboys you successfully made yourself look like a jackass congratulations.

Deafheaven dropped a good album but it got too much praise from everyone who fingers them self to the Pitchfork home page. Everyone took off their Bulls snapback and got dumb fuckin’ dad haircuts. Nice Napalm Death backpatch you piece of shit did your mom sew it on for you? Hardcore is still as dumb as it’s ever been, maybe Sound and Fury won’t get canceled this year (I hope it does). Catch you at This Is Hardcore you macho fucking douche bags.

I can’t think of anything else that sucked about 2013. 05 Fuck Em was raw as hell. I won’t be happy until the new Earth Crisis album drops so I can have something new to rip on. Defend harsh noise 2006.

“wizard of oz”

By Cory Lamping

I’ve seen it on the fringes of society the ball of yarn comes unraveled and the cat at the end’s not quite right overstimulated and underappreciated the circuits overheat and the pulse runs elliptic who what when where why? follow the rainbow to the pot of gold dip your toes in and never grow old take a step back from mental insanity view the world in technicolor clarity follow the yellow brick road to the crock of shit grow old and make money for the men that you hate

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untitled

By Jake Dixon we move quickly, as lit cigarettes falling fast with our breath or fire engine sirens piercing the night sky. all the heaven’s are alight tonight, all the reds and blues like our black and blue arms. tonight we’re kings, turned into kings, turned into kings. i can’t carry weight between my fingertips or on the bridge of my nose, but i’ve got your lips on my forehead. now my cheeks, now my lips. a mystery like ‘where am i going to rest my head tonight, or how am i going to shake this feeling’ and your tongue is shaking and my teeth are on fire. my eyes are cold and my mind can’t help but ask “is love only for want?” and everything is spinning. my hands behind your neck. i feel your skin on my skin. kids becoming kings. kids becoming kings. kids becoming. this is our sinking story, one of bitterness and loneliness that i’ve feared the most. no more words, but when you disappear, leave a note saying you were never warm. addressed to leave us, ever a loving smile. havens of divinity; of worth that i swore i found in you.

untitled

By Jake Dixon Maybe in the future we’ll meet again and we’ll decide to start over one more time. but for now I am used to being alone. it’s my only stubborn habit that I have left any more. i’m slowly moving forward. it was not even that hard to do so.

I fled for 1600 miles to forget you and of course I can’t yet. I can’t come home again without being reminded of our ghosts.

But I’m slowly moving forward. there are times that i have to look back to the time that i spent with you. even if i try to put what i felt at that time into words, everything is fragmented and vague and with each passing year, i am less and less confident in who you really are.

But I still can’t forget you. Still, I am slowly moving forward. Do you still hold the worth we once held? I don’t know anymore. The spot in the sky that we claimed as our own has disappeared and all traces we left together have faded. I still can’t forget you. But I am slowly moving forward.

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When the Music Ends A Short Story by Timothy Henderson

It was a dark winter night as I walked along the trail with my friend Shane. It felt like our skin would peel as the minus forty weather anchored itself into our souls. Somehow we managed tocontiue walking to our destination in only our sweaters and skinny jeans, earnestly headed towards the best night of our lives: the house show. This wasn’t simply an event; this was the sound of a spectacle that for one time a month could destroy everything in its wake. It had the capacity to build an army through unbridled cacophony and could, if even for one night open our eyes to something greater than ourselves. It would lift a veil that we never even knew existed, leaving us with temporary insight. It would ravage our ear drums and with its impassioned aggression and make us slave to the brutal dissonance that would become the beat we laboured to. The only result of our efforts would leave us bruised and bashed, yet it would only make us want to go back for seconds.

By the time we were close to our destination, we sprinted towards the sound as if it would save us. When we finally stopped moving, each of us could only let out exhausted pants as we entered the crowded and miniscule garage. I could barely hear the playing of the six members in the opening band as my ears hadn’t thawed out yet. Already, Shane was starting to participate in what looked like a developing mosh pit. A pit is a beautiful thing when done right. If done right, it’s a very great way to get audience participation, as well as an excellent ice breaker. However, the ice around me seemed too solid for even the most immersible pit to break.

As the opening band finished their performance, the crowd began to holler loudly as if to show a primitive form of approval. The band didn’t do anything impressive; I believe their name was actually Half-Rate. Their entire set composed of 40 second hardcore punk covers which in it’s entirety lasted about 20 minutes. As the three members of next act came up, they already seemed like they were twice as good as the last band.

During this time, I sat in a corner with a bottle of water trying not to stand out. Shane was completely out of sight at this point, yet I felt like I couldn’t go anywhere without him. This was odd for me because this was the first show he had ever attended, while I had been to other shows, and even performed in them. When the next band began to give an introduction, I found that I could move slightly without shivering from my past experience.

When the band started playing, I suddenly felt myself getting pushed into the pit. I couldn’t see what had happened, but suddenly I had become a thick pliable disc getting tossed around between everybody inside the house. As the song ended, I felt exhausted yet energized. For the rest of the night I didn’t know who pushed me, although I would later come to the realization that I had tripped on an empty bottle. I then began to retreat from the sprawl, only to notice a subsection of people filling the space of this garage. They all had forty ounce bottles of malt liquor and wore tie-dyed tank tops while shouting out random lyrics to the song being played.

At first I began to scoff at the crowd, but then I slowly realized that Shane was apart of it. He was a very skinny person with a very pale complexion. He always looked like something had happened to him a long time ago, but at this time he had quickly undergone some kind of pathological metamorphosis. He was no longer the Shane I knew, suddenly he had become the drunken apex of masculinity. It was him who now led the rabble as the next song began.

Before the rabble descended themselves into the pit, they started to crowd around me. I could feel every fibre of my being unable to escape the clutter I soon found forming around me. Without a single thought they began to offer me a cigarette, without saying anything I took it. I wasn’t a smoker, but I couldn’t say no to these people, while they said nothing to me, they threatened me through silence: take the smoke or we’ll do something worse. I could hear the perceived threats in my head while I began to light the tip of the cigarette. When I finally sucked in the smoke, something had gripped onto my spirit, mixing itself with the very essence of my being. I inhaled these foreign fumes, only to exhale my old self. I was left feeling weightless and a large amount of pressure had been lifted from me. After a single drag I instantly become a part of their group.

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As the band prepared to play another song, this gang had began settling themselves into the centre of the pit, waiting for an opportune time to pounce. While we waited, I began to feel my entire body being pushed by people around me. When the drummer began to pummel his set, people were no longer only pushing each other around. Now fist-fights would begin to form in the middle of the pit, all of which commenced by a member of this small gang now drunkenly lead by Shane. Things began to feel good, I felt able to control my motor skills much easier than before, the chill in my spine was still there, but it was no longer a hindrance. This feeling was now simply something that reminded me of the outside world.

Progressively as the night unravelled, I found myself taking no less than four shots of vodka. After every shot I would become increasingly more volatile, as if every glass was bringing me one step closer to becoming a living, breathing Molotov cocktail. This pattern would be repeated for the remainder of the second band’s set-list. The sounds of gang vocals began to amplify the room to the point where microphones held no meaning. The vocal duties no longer stemmed from a single voice, but from sixty. It was as if everybody in the house had already known every sound that was going to come from the singers lips and could replicate it with inebriated passion. Despite the tightly knit instrumentation of the band, people were still getting beat up by this unlikely group of brigands.

By the time the trio stopped playing, everybody started to separate from their temporary comrades. As they did this, the drunken horde had begun to evaporate, this was when the third band was getting ready to perform. In the background, shady and silent groups of men had begun to go outside of the garage for little moments of time. As they came back into the building, you could see that that something had changed inside of them. At first I thought their life force was taken away from them, but then I would look again only to see that these people were not broken, instead they were in a realm of nirvana- the realm of ignorant bliss.

With a naive air of curiosity, I would drunkenly waltz towards this unlikely asylum in a trek to discover what the root of their happiness really was. The first person I found in this little corner was a thin man with long black hair that extended down to his elbows. He wore ripped jeans, a black t-shirt, and a black hand band placed directly underneath his hair, he almost looked like he was two equal parts Kurt Cobain and Ozzy Osborne.

When I finally walked up to him, I had began to give some sort of awkward introductory small talk. “Hello-” would be the only word to come out of my mouth before the man would announce-“Greetings young one, what brings you into my bubble?” I was startled by this response, so in order to avoid embarrassment, I would pretend not to hear it.

My efforts would be to no avail, however, as the figure had started to pull me closer to him. With a very mellow expression he took out a small syringe, “I guess I’ll have to pop yours then-”he paused for a second after saying this, giggling as if he had made the funniest joke of his life, but after a second or so he began to lightly explain-”I was going to use this on myself, but you look like you need it more than I.” When I eyed the syringe, I realized that I had found what I was looking for, that was the only thing on my mind when we headed out to the back of the house.

As both of us went outside of the comforts found indoors, we heard only the loud, blaring sounds of the drums and bass from the third band. Neither of us really seemed to care about this group at all. The skinny man then suddenly took off his headband and tied it around my arm. The head band turned out to be incredibly thin as the unknown man began to stick the syringe into my arm. “Don’t worry”-he reassured me-“It’s never been used.” Because of how he said this, I can assume I looked paranoid, but I didn’t care in the least bit. When he pierced the spike through my skin, I had felt a chill as the metal began to freeze into my skin. When he injected the syringe, I experienced instant gratification.

It was as if the feeling of drug induced euphoria had combined itself with this ever present feeling of coldness. However the cold wouldn’t bother me anymore, it was as if nothing truly mattered this very moment. I couldn’t be expected to care even if I had wanted to.

When we both returned to the garage, everything would start to become very calming as we found ourselves ebbing and flowing in a dissonant sea of visceral instrumentation and primal screams. At this point, I couldn’t recall the exact details of the set simply because I wasn’t fully paying attention. However, I remember sitting in a corner simply looking at everything around me and not caring what would happen. It was as if I was watching the world unfold like 41

a play; I was simply an audience member who’d only partially participate when the performers pressured me to do so.

Eventually, Shane would come up to me and get me off my feet, dragging me into the middle of the pit once again.

I was in a tumultuous position when the crashing movements of the crowd would drift me wherever it saw fit.

With every downbeat, I could feel myself plummet in a different direction. For the entire set I didn’t care that I was being put into a position of risk, nor did I care when I felt the bruises that came along every time my body would descend to the floor. It was pure bliss. By the time their set had ended, I suddenly came upon the realization that the band members were probably as inebriated as I was. It would be the same feeling, but a different poison.

By the time the music ended, Shane and I were preparing to depart from the house. It was as if after all the bands were done, there was no longer an over arching hierarchy of attendees. Shane would no longer have a mob to lead. We gave our goodbyes and caresses to people we couldn’t even name as we opened the door to the cold stark world we knew all so well. As they all left, there was an unbearable silence that would remain the only constant companion to many in that derelict congregation of broken spirits.

When we finally began walking outside, both of us started rambling on about the first things that were on our minds. I still can’t remember a word that Shane would tell me during that time; I wouldn’t want to remember if I was given that option. We would continue to walk for a long time, shivering after every step of the way until we found that we were close to an old abandoned mine. Even in that moment of total euphoria, we had enough connection to the outside world to feel momentary frustration.

“Well what now?” Shane would aggressively slur to me. I looked at him for a moment in order to process all that he had said. “How about”-I paused in hopes that an idea would push me in a certain direction in a similar fashion to way that I had been pushed earlier on that night-”We turn back and walk away from here?” This idea must have made total sense to him since that was exactly what we did. We continued to walk for a while, at first maintaining a slow pace, sometimes even taking breaks to empty ourselves of the fluid built up inside of us. Although the longer we exposed ourselves to the elements, the more silent and cold we’d become. Eventually it got to the point where I could no longer feel the relief of the product inside of my veins; the cold could make anyone sober.

We began walking for a long time until we found ourselves lost on the opposite side of town. By this point, the environment had affected me so badly that I had began to complain through clenched teeth. “Shane, we need to do something, this is becoming too much.” He would look at me as if I had suddenly become less respectable than the person I was two seconds prior. “Well, don’t ask me, what do you want to do about it?” There was enough sense in me that I would anxiously tell him, “We need to call a cab.” At that exact moment I took out my cell phone, this seemed to have calmed him down a little, although he still would ask if I had any money. We both scrounged through our pockets, but found that neither of us had enough on us. Luckily after a thorough search through the tight, cluttered pieces of fabric that I called my pants, I managed to uncover a debit card.

Hurriedly we had attempted to go inside the bank I called my own, only to find that it would receive us with closed doors. Now feeling defeated, we drudged ourselves over to the next bank. When we reached our destination, both of us had noticed the strangest of sights; a homeless man was in the bank opening the door for us. Without a second thought, we accepted the invitation into the building.

As Shane and I jumped inside the bank, both of us put our hands onto the heating vent of the building for a few seconds. At first the heat was so painful that it had actually stung, but after three minutes or so, the burning feeling had become painfully comforting. During this time, the man wasn’t too far from us. He would tell us how this building was closed for the night, but he was squatting in it for a little bit so that he wouldn’t freeze. For that moment I had felt a sense of comradeship with this man of whom I’d never know the name of.

As we left the bank we had waved goodbye to the homeless man; we were still cold but somehow it had suddenly become tolerable. I don’t remember having to wait for a cab, the only thing that I remember was that we both somehow found ourselves inside of one. When the driver came to Shane’s house, we both would go our separate ways. Shane said 42

that he would see me some other day, but I wouldn’t keep to it. The driver was nearly mute for the entire drive, it seemed like he could smell the sins that we were both covered in. By the time he reached my destination, I handed him my twenty dollars and told him that he could keep the change, to me, this bribe would be a form of atonement for sins I didn’t regret.

As I walked up the stairs to my house, the solemnity of the building would strike me once again. This house was a big blue building which had two separate floors, one floor was for a bed & breakfast that would give people a cheap place to spend the night, while the other half housed a dying family. The entire building was built by the hands of one man. Despite the fact that the structure and foundation of the house itself was pristine and rigid, the inside of it was slowly decaying. When I finally opened the door, there was a brooding silence, something that usually accompanies an empty driveway. Now that I had my wits about me, I slowly walked towards my bedroom, it was constantly in complete shambles the same way I that I had been. When I finally managed to get myself under the covers, I began to shiver violently upon the sudden realization that the music had ended. When the music was over, you were left cold, broken, and alone. I didn’t sleep that night, I would silently lie there and prepare to begin this vicious cycle anew.

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Internet by Childish Gambino almost non-stop since it came out, but I feel like a lot of the sounds on that album were inspired by Yeezus, which also came out this year.

And there’s Sunbather, too, which is just really fucking beautiful. And The World Is’ album is about as close to classic Appleseed Cast as it gets anymore. So I guess those.

AND THIS ONE DIDN’T COME OUT THIS YEAR BUT COPING BY CAVALCADES IS SO FUCKING GOOD HOLY SHIT Why did you start a record label?

The first few years I kind of just used it to release my solo music. At the end of the summer in 2011 my friend (Jonny, he’s in Sinking Ship Symphony/Depp and a few other projects) needed a way to release his music so that’s really when this thing picked up. And from there I just decided to do that some more and sign some more bands.

INTERVIEW: Rodrigo Castellanos, Globe Garage Records

By Mark Garza Who are you and what do you do?

I’m Rodrigo Castellanos and I run Globe Garage, an independent record label (former management company).

Why former?

It’s hard to run a label and a management company at the same time. I guess I just really like Sargent House and thought I could pull it off too, but instead just couldn’t do either well. Never half ass two things, whole ass one thIng - Ron Swanson How much do you love Parks and Recreation?

Somewhere between a 9 and a 10 if 9 is an ostrich and 10 is an ostrich’s egg.

What do you love most about music?

I like how music creates an emotional response from people. Even music that (for some reason) doesn’t get thought of as ‘emotional’ like EDM still creates a sense of happiness in a lot of people. And it’s cool how communities start forming based around certain styles of music. It’s like another family you can talk to.

AOTY? That’s a hard one. I’ve been listening to Because the

Do you identIfy as a DIY label and if so, what does that mean to you?

Not as much anymore. This is probably going to anger some people, but honestly I feel like running a DIY label is a lot more expensive than a ‘regular’ label. I mean, it is.

I wish I could do everything hand-made and personal all of the time, but at this point I can’t even run the label on my own. I identify with it, it’s just not ideal for me when I work with a ~10 band roster. I look up to labels that manage to pull that off, though.

What’s been your favorite release that you’ve done so far?

Whatever the last one we released is. Really can’t play favorites, and I don’t think I could anyways. Whenever I get sent masters from an album we’re releasing I just freak out at the fact that I get to help the band release this. It’s awesome.

Do you have any labels/bands/etc. you want to give a shout out to that you think people should check out?

Only ones that are better than me and will probably never hear of me. Sargent House, Topshelf, Polyvinyl, Equal Vision.

Any final words?

Support local music. And big touring bands. And everything in between. While I personally don’t feel like the music industry is suffering quite as much as a lot of people say it is, it’s definitely taken a beating over the past few years. People put their tIme and effort into making these albums so even if it’s free, make sure you help out in some way.

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Do You Remember Rock’n’Roll Radio?

By Nicholas Benevenia In an age of radio consolidation, it seems as if the voices of the American airwaves have little connection to the values that once made radio great. In the modern age, radio programs are produced in corporate studios and syndicated across the nation. Notable examples of this is “On-Air with Ryan Seacrest” and “House of Hair with Dee Snider.” These types of syndicated programs are lacking the two key elements that define radio: live and local.

When radio is live, and not pre-recorded, DJs are encouraged to be spontaneous and connect with the listeners in real time. DJs could play the records that they honestly believed were great works of art.

When radio is local, DJs and radio stations develop intimate relationships with their communities and listeners. Imagine a radio station that runs an advertisement not for a big corporation, but that small record store downtown. These types of free-form rock radio stations were prevalent back in the 1970s. If any of you live in the New York area, ask your folks about WNEW 102.7 and I bet they will fondly recall the days of Allison Steele and Scott Muni.

However, I am not here to reminisce about the glory days of rock radio, and complain about the lack of compelling music on the airwaves today. I am here to remind everyone that this free-form rock radio still exists. There are radio stations in America that grant their DJs the ability to play whatever they want and push the boundaries of art and music. Radio stations that support local communities and causes, while providing air-time to new and upcoming bands that need it most. This, my friends, is College Radio.

True college radio stations, managed and programmed by students, are the final bastions of powerful rock radio. This “rock” radio not only showcases the best that rock music has to offer, but electronic, metal, noise, ambient, jazz, and every other music that is not produced by the monstrous scourge of a music industry that dominates American airwaves. I have worked in college radio for four years, holding every position imaginable, from DJ to General Manager. What I have witnessed during my 45

time have been countless DJs who care about music and art so much that all they want to do with their lives is work to promote it and open the eyes and ears of the listening public to something new.

Every show is live and analog (no digital music, all vinyl and CDs), and our sponsors are all local businesses that help promote underground music. That is the promise of college radio, and that is something you will never find on commercial corporate radio.

I leave you with this: embrace college radio. Every major U.S. city has a college radio station. Listen, support, or join. It may be the last chance we have at making our voices heard.

Wanna be in our next zine?

(Wanna Be in Our Next Zine?)

[Due out in March?]

Or tell us how bad this one was? Maybe how dumb the font choice was? Maybe how Matt Diamond isn’t as funny as he thinks he is? Wanna pitch ideas or just give general feedback? Submit something for the next zine? Tell us a bad joke? Send us letters for the hopefully forthcoming “Letters to the Editor” article?

Well too bad.

All comments, feedback, suggestions, etc are greatly appreciated and can be sent to funeralsoundsrecords@gmail.com

Credit to Conner Sgarbossa