Why do we need whimsy now, when, on the morning news, every little joy appears to be getting flushed away? I’m not sure. But reading through this feature, editing these pieces, seeing the graphics team drive the tone of the pages, I find some strange sort of solace. Every tune referenced plays in my memory when it’s read. I found myself whistling the Smiths in a happy way. How strange! There’s an absurdity surrounding whimsy. That absurdity has found its way into this issue of Five Cent Sound, where bassists, bardcore, and “Strawberry Blonde” intersect. Writers, editors, designers, and organizers made this happen with focus, determination, and commitment. Reflecting on whimsy takes work, and all worthwhile work requires love; love for the artists mentioned, the songs unpacked, and the playlists compiled. At the center of Five Cent Sound has always been love for the sounds that shape our world. Here, we fill that world with whimsy.
As this is Sophie and I’s last hurrah as coEditors-in-Chief, I want to thank her for carrying this magazine through the nuts and bolts that I couldn’t sort. Always detail-oriented, always on top of things, she couldn’t have been a better EIC. Though, I don’t think she would disagree with the assertion that this magazine isn’t ours. Every semester, Five Cent Sound is made special by the group of talented individuals that lay out a dream over messy Slack communications and multiple layers of edits. This wouldn’t be possible without everyone who contributed to it, so thank you, thank you, thank you.
Five Cent Sound, forever!
Adios, Gavin Miller
I joined Five Cent Sound the first semester of my sophomore year as a copyeditor, and that is all I ever really thought I’d be able to offer to the mag. I’m not a writer, I’m not an artist, I just like to edit the words of others and make sure commas are where they’re supposed to be. By happenstance, I found myself interviewing to be a co-Editor-in-Chief, and in the blink of an eye my whirlwind of a year in charge has come to a close, and I couldn’t be prouder of everything Gavin and I have done in our time.
Five Cent, what is there to say? I have learned and gained so much from this incredible experience, from stellar music reccomendations to everything I know about Adobe InDesign. I am so endlessly grateful for the awe-inspiring creativity of everyone on this team, from our writers to our visual artists and everyone in between. I couldn’t be prouder of what we have created together.
Now more than ever I think it is so important to take pride in being whimsical and having fun, even when it feels impossible. I hope what we have compiled here helps you take the weight off, even for just a little while.
Thank you to our wonderful print team for helping make this issue a reality. Thank you especially to Gavin, I couldn’t have asked for a better person to go on this ride with. And, lastly, thank you to Emma and Olivia for taking the reins for next year — I know you are going to do great things!
I guess this is goodbye.
I love you, Five Cent Sound!
Love always, Sophie Hartstein
Our team!
Executive
Co-Editor-in-Chief - Sophie Hartstein
Co-Ediotr-in-Chief - Gavin Miller
Assistant Editor-in-Chief - Emma O’Keefe
Assistant Editor-in-Chief - Olivia Lindquist
Creative Director - Rebecca Calvar
Head Online Director - Sydney Johnson
Managing Editor - Marianna Orozco
Assistant Online Editor - Emie McAthie
Photo Coordinator - Tara Byrne
Social Media Manager - Mia Rodriguez
Playlist Coordinator - Norah Lesperance
Editorial
General Editors
Marianna Orozco
Olivia Lindquist
Norah Lesperance
Nina Fauci
Shannon Cullen
Penelope Alevrontas
McKenna Parker
DEI Editors
Sophie Hartstein
Kalyn Thompson
Copyeditors
James Hollander
Alison Sincebaugh
Penelope Alevrontas
Norah Lesperance
Shannon Cullen
McKenna Parker
Olivia Lindquist
Nina Fauci
Creative
Visual Artists
Matthias Gat
Sophie Hartstein
Rebecca Calvar
Liam Alexe
Charlie Desjardins
Aryssa Guerrero
Layout Coordinators
Sophie Hartstein
Lauren Mallett
Our Five Cents:
Certified Frolicker! by
Lucia Cinquino
and Ella Glassman // 1
The Score of Jacques Demy by Emma O’Keefe // 9
Is Bardcore Next? by Olivia Lindquist // 17
The Whimsy of King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard by Matthias Gat // 25
Choosing to Laugh by Charlie Desjardins // 31
The New Punk Capital by Jagger van Vliet // 45
The Art of the Utility Player by Max Ardrey // 51
Not What You Say But How You Say It by Laura Bott // 57
And The Light Never Went Out by Sachi Andrade // 67
Why We Need Whimsy by Emma O’Keefe // 73
Certified
visual by Sophie Hartstein
Frolicker!
by lucia cinquino and ella glassman
There is truly nothing more whimsical than finding a piece of music that allows you to let loose. The joy, the inspiration, the decompression; it’s all part of the enjoyment of music. While simply discovering a song that stirs something inside you is great, imagining the perfect place in your mind or reality is a magical experience. In this case, the music that makes you want to get up and frolic beats any other genre. Yes, it’s a genre. We have curated the perfect playlist to help you find your inner frolicker. With two lifetimes of experience, we are confident that we can provide the best frolicking experience tailored to your specific mood and location. You’ll just have to trust us… We know how to frolic. So, let go of all your inhibitions, put on our playlist, and find your inner frolicker!
Twirling in aField Filled with Flowers
Ethereal, Floral, Flowy
F Dreams - The Cranberries
F Would That I - Hozier
F Strawberry Blonde - Mitski
F Everywhere - Fleetwood Mac
F Flowers in Your Hair - The Lumineers
F Mystery of Love - Sufjan Stevens
On a breezy and sunny afternoon, listening to the right music can instantly transport you to a wide-open field filled with tulips, daisies, and every flower imaginable. The sound of upbeat, reflective, imaginative folk music creates the joyful emotion associated with twirling or frolicking in a field. There is something so beautiful about feeling liberated and connected with the natural world, heightened while sharing those moments with someone close to you. Songs like “Dreams” by The Cranberries and “Everywhere” by Fleetwood Mac emerged in the late ’80s and early ’90s, an era when folk influences of rock were still very apparent, and both songs stir something whimsical within anyone who listens. In the newer folk scene, artists like Mitski, Hozier, and The Lumineers are masters of acoustic tones and fairy-like lyricisms, perfect for those outdoor urges that make for the ideal frolicking mood. With all this joy and energetic movement, there is still room for the floaty music, which is best when resting next to your frolicking partner after a long and hard day of work, twirling and dancing your heart out.
Driving Home with the Windows Down
Breezy, Yearning, Free
F Cecilia - Simon & Garfunkel
F Nellie - Dr. Dog
F The Gold - Manchester Orchestra
F ’39 - Queen
F Angela - The Lumineers
F Canada - Wallows
Although driving is not everyone’s favorite pastime, few can deny that speeding down a country road with the music blaring, the wind in your hair, and the sun shining down stirs a magical feeling on the inside. Whether the drive home is a long road trip or just across town, the emotions elicited from traveling back to a place that holds so many memories are bound to be strong. The anticipation of seeing loved ones is magnified by music that provides opportunities for reflection and the release of built up stress. In a similar fashion to frolicking in a field, the feeling of being free that folk-inspired music evokes within is yet to be rivaled. Specifically in music where the driving beat of clapping hands — or even better, a tambourine — showcases the motivation and reinforces the energy behind the song. Artists like The Lumineers and Manchester Orchestra have a well-established artistry of this sensation. Their respective discographies are filled with foot stops and other beat-enforcing additions that draw out the liberating feelings. Next time you find yourself on the road, take a minute to put on the music that makes you feel most free and most like you’re headed home, wherever home may be.
Skipping Down an Empty City Street
Confidence, Radiance, Swag
F Can I Call You Tonight? - Dayglow
F Leaves - Joe P
F Guilty Pleasure - Chapell Roan
F Happiness - The 1975
F Nothing Matters - The Last Dinner Party
F La Di Da - The Regrettes
Skipping is one of the greatest actions one can do to unleash their free-spirited inner-child energy. When doing so down a beautiful and open street, there are no limits to the happiness you can unlock. Paired with songs like Dayglow’s “Can I Call You Tonight?,” featuring an uplifting and encouraging guitar riff, skipping to these songs will allow the best parts of you to radiate. The joy in these songs, paired with an empty street to skip on, brings out the self confidence within all of us; in these moments, we are completely free of any kind of judgement. The Regrettes’ “La Di Da” celebrates this idea through its lyrics, “So throw your hands up, dust off your shoulders / Singin’ la-da-da-di-da-di-da / And take this moment, grab and hold it / Singin’ la-di-da-di-dadi-da-di-da.” Lead singer Lydia Knight motivates her listeners to just let loose and frolic their hearts out. Upbeat songs like these let you break free from what’s been holding you back. Take them to the most beautiful and clear street you can find, and become one with the music.
Dancing with a Night Sky View
Nostalgia, Electric, Enchanting
F Running Up That Hill - Kate Bush
F Monodrama - Benches
F Stargazing - The Neighborhood
F Purple - Wunderhorse
F Favourite - Fontaines D.C.
F Open Wide - Inhaler
The view of our night sky can often inflict some serious emotions; with mood-setting music, who knows how deep one’s thoughts can go? The music included in this section is meant to emphasize how it feels when the stars shine down on us. Whether you are dancing by yourself or with a loved one, songs like “Favourite” by Fontaines D.C. will bring you those tingling sensations you feel before something exciting. Similarly, Inhaler’s “Open Wide” features a floaty bassline that will unite you with the sky. Looking up and swaying along to the music should bring your consciousness to the forefront of your mind; the feelings you have been holding in, the love you have for something, or even an unleashing of the self you want to embody. We advise you to select your favorite song from our picks, go out and find a beautiful view with dancing room, and let the electricity of the sky and the moment take hold. Allow the lyrics of the songs to infiltrate your thoughts and the melodies take hold of your body. You never know what the night sky, mixed with our selections, may reveal about yourself.
Hanging on the Beach in the Sun
Vibrant, Bliss, Sunkissed
F This Life - Vampire Weekend
F Honey, Honey - ABBA
F Friday I’m in Love - The Cure
F Waterloo Sunset - The Kinks
F Cinnamon - Blossoms
F Penny Lane - The Beatles
A day at the beach is a refresher many of us can appreciate; the warm sand, sparkling ocean, patterned towels, and vibrant umbrellas all drenched by the beaming sun are relaxation at its finest. However, the selection of music on the beach can make or break that relaxation. Our list, made for frolicking on the beach, gives you a range of easy listening for lounging and more upbeat anthems for splashing around. The beachy surf guitar and layered harmonies of Vampire Weekend and the iconic vacation Europop sound of ABBA only make a day at the beach more fun and picturesque. The key to any of these picks is to gauge their danceability and their happy, idyllic tones. Just like enjoying an icy drink under the sun, appropriate beach music revives your energy and soul. The romantic lyricism of the songs “Penny Lane,” “Cinnamon,” or “Friday I’m In Love” is perfect for the happy feelings and colorful thoughts only found by the sea. Whether sitting in a lounge chair, lying on a warm towel, or tossing around a volleyball on the sand, the delights of the beach are undeniable. So, bring a speaker and blast those beachy tunes!
Let the Frolicking Begin!
Take the wisdom we’ve provided and go off into the world with just a little more whimsy in your playlist. We hope you now feel capable of adding your own songs to our frolicking curation. Run with these confidence-boosting beats and danceinducing melodies, and don’t look back!
visual by Aryssa Guerrero
Playful, fanciful, and humorous are words used to define whimsical. They also happen to define the films of French New Wave director Jacques Demy. The French director, screenwriter, and lyricist is best known for his movie-musicals made in the ’60s. While the New Wave movement may have been characterized by its black and white aesthetics, Demy’s best movies were anything but black and white. They were filled with color and life, both literally and figuratively. Inspired by the great technicolor Hollywood classics of the 1950s like Singin’ in the Rain, Demy’s work stands out among his peers. He was a pioneer of the French New Wave movement who took inspiration from the Golden Hollywood era, a unique combination that has cemented him as a pivotal filmmaker. Demy released The Umbrellas of Cherbourg, The Young Girls of Rochefort, and Donkey Skin in 1964, 1967, and 1970 respectively. All three of these movie-musicals star Catherine Deneuve, as she and Demy had a close working relationship. She described him as kind and nurturing to Variety in 2016, and as a true filmmaker, someone “who had an eye for mise-enscène.” Their first collaboration on Umbrellas of Cherbourg launched Deneuve into stardom at only 22. Deneuve’s beauty and charm only added to the films’ distinct mise-en-scène. Her work with Demy has helped cement her as one of the greatest actresses of all time.
Demy’s work is as relevant as ever in 2025 when movie-musicals like Wicked and Emilia Pérez have racked in critical acclaim and taken over the cultural conversation. Where Wicked has lackluster lighting and scenery, Demy’s film’s color schemes catch viewers’ eyes immediately. Where Emilia Pérez’s attempt to capture social commentary, song, and dance in one film falls short, Umbrellas of Cherbourg achieves this feat with
ease. Demy’s movie-musicals stand out as pillars of the genre as audiences grow tired with the lack of visual aesthetics and audaciousness in Hollywood. If you’re looking for musical films with spirit, beauty, and, of course, filled with whimsy in a time when the film industry is obsessed with realism, the following movies were made for you.
I fell in love with Demy’s movie-musicals not as an avid theater or musical fan, but as someone looking for joy and whimsy in film without any loss of depth or craft. This is exactly what I found in Demy. In this article I’ll take you through what I find to be his most groundbreaking films and their accompanying original music/scores. I will be referring to all films and lyrics by their English names and translations for readability. Spoilers lie ahead.
The Umbrellas of Cherbourg
You may recognize The Umbrellas of Cherbourg as arguably the main inspiration for Damien Chazelle’s 2016 La La Land , particularly its striking ending where the main love interest characters do not end up together. The Umbrellas of Cherbourg follows Catherine Deneuve as the young Genevieve who is separated from her lover, Guy, when he is sent off to war for years. At no point in the film do the characters ever stop singing, even in casual dialogue. The score is made up of a stream of continuous music. If you are uncomfortable with this form, you are not alone. In the opening scene, one of Guy’s fellow mechanics sings, “I don’t like opera, I prefer cinema. All those people who sing ... it’s painful,” as the men at the garage discuss movies versus theater. In this conversation, Demy acknowledges the musical form in the first five minutes of the film, and catches viewers with
his sense of humor. It’s a first glance at the whimsical storytelling that is to come.
The score was composed by Michel Legrand with lyrics by Demy. Legrand would go on to work with Demy in many of his most notable films including The Young Girls of Rochefort. His work on the score, led by an orchestra with a heavy jazz influence, earned the film multiple Oscar nominations. A variety of jazz singers took over the vocals for the cast who were not trained singers. The cast, in turn, spent ample time learning to properly lip-sync by attending the recordings of the singers. The music distinguishes the characters from the moment we meet them. Guy is followed by a quick-paced jazz melody, the rhythmic notes of which represent a new generation’s bold spirit, working class aspirations, and day-to-day grind that Guy, a mechanic who eventually opens up his own garage, encapsulates. In their romance, Guy and Genevieve’s voices and accompanying score meet at a medium range while Genevieve’s solo scenes are surrounded by lighter wind instruments and violin. She is an innocent 16-year-old still intrinsically attached to her mother, Emery, who pushes Genevieve to marry the older and wealthier, Roland Cassard, instead of Guy. When Genevieve and Emery interact, their voices go to higher ranges and are connected by ascending strings. The main characters’ accompanying themes represent their socio-economic circumstances, which ultimately tear the two apart.
The Young Girls of Rochefort
The Young Girls of Rochefort follows an ensemble starring twins Delphine and Solange, played by Catherine Deneuve and her real-life sister, Françoise Dorléac. The inhabitants of Rochefort fall in love with one another, and characters
that are meant to be just barely miss each other from scene to scene with a great ensemble cast including Gene Kelly of Singin’ in the Rain and George Chakiris of West Side Story. The movie pays homage to classic Hollywood musicals more than any of Demy’s other films, not only because of these Hollywood icons, but because of its overthe-top dance routines and romantic encounters.
The jazzy, peppy score is at its peak in the most famous song from the film, “A Pair of Twins,” sung by the real-life sisters in their infamous pink and yellow outfits. “We are a pair of twins / Born in the sign of Gemini / Who love catchy tunes, silly puns and repartee,” they sing looking directly at the camera. The rest of the lyrics of this “catchy tune” lay out the background of the twins’ lives, their desires, and their characters. This tongue-in-cheek song, sung directly to the audience, tells viewers that Demy is self-aware. He has fun with the form and plays into it so dramatically it can be interpreted as parodic at points. The characters talk about their favorite jazz and classical musicians, and even go as far as to reference the composer of the movie, Michel Legrand, stating that they would like to hear some of his music.
Unlike The Umbrellas of Cherbourg, there is spoken dialogue, allowing the singing and dancing to emphasize the movie’s over-the-top musical style. The combination of ballet’s french origins and jazz’s movement in the choreography by Norman Maen compliment the combination of symphony and jazz melodies in the score. It works to emphasize the connection Demy makes between French and American culture in almost every aspect of the film. Demy was a part of the New Wave movement in French film, defined by its experimentalism and deconstruction of tradition. For him to not only make musicals, but one that paid homage
to the icons and music of America and a well established genre, was a bold move. The Young Girls of Rochefort delivers on this boldness with its color, its joy and its whimsy.
Donkey Skin
What is more whimsical than a fairytale? Donkey Skin is based on a Charles Perrault fairytale of the same name. A king’s beloved queen requests on her deathbed that the king remarry, but only when he finds someone more beautiful than her. The king decides that their daughter, the princess, is the only woman as beautiful as his deceased wife and intends to marry her. To avoid marrying her father, the princess tells him she will only marry him if he can make her what she believes must be impossible: dresses that the king ends up providing. She goes as far as to request a dress made up of the skin of the king’s donkey that produces gold, and, when her father provides her with the donkey’s skin, she realizes that he will stop at nothing. She runs away to avoid their marriage and becomes known in a nearby kingdom as the ugly “Donkey Skin.” This is only the first half of the film. If that summary didn’t signal this to you already, this movie is eccentric.
Michel Legrand once again composes this film, keeping it grounded in fairytale whimsy and playfulness while maintaining the jazz influences of his past collaborations with Demy. Catherine Deneuve lip syncs once again, playing both the queen and the princess, another tongue-in-cheek moment from Demy. There is an orchestra, an organ, and a parrot mocking the song of the princess in this score, while the inflections of the princess’ voice remain jazzy as she sings, marking the score of Donkey Skin as truly unique. “We’ll live happily in our fairytale of love,” the princess
(and the neighboring kingdom’s prince) sing to each other, another acknowledgement of form from Demy that remains consistent among his lyrics, but feels humorous and exciting every time.
Jacques Demy’s films have long been described as candy-colored, and this description feels particularly special with the loss of technicolor in modern cinema. The music, with lyrics by Demy and composition by Michel Legrand, can catch even a hesitant listener and keep them hooked. The clever self-referential moments stick out, but the raw emotion of characters in his candycolored worlds is what will make you love his films most of all. He defied genre with New Wave musicals, an experimental filmmaker whose influence remains steady on modern ones. Watch celebrities visit The Criterion Closet and, odds are, one of them will pull out one of his classics and sigh in adoration. Watch The Umbrellas of Cherbourg, a perfect film for a Demy newcomer and you’ll have the same reaction.
visual by Liam Alexe
Is Bardcore Next? Contemporary Music
in Whimsical Places
by Olivia Lindquist
Growing up, there was no feeling that compared to putting the Star Wars: A New Hope disk into my family’s blu-ray player and waiting for that opening theme as the movie’s historical context rolled over the screen, setting the scene for an intergalactic epic that was only elevated by its score. Our parents had the Star Wars franchise. We had Harry Potter or The Pirates of the Caribbean, depending on your age, to watch in theatres and get that epic soundtrack experience, giving us goosebumps on our goosebumps when we heard the rhythmic sound of “Hedwig’s Theme” or the jumpy strings of the Pirates “Main Theme.” Movie soundtracks have taken the hearts of many. Composers, such as Alan Menken and John Williams, have spent their careers crafting scores that give audiences goosebumps and immerse them in the world unfolding on the screen in front of them. Most will recognize “Star Wars (Main Title),” “Hedwig’s Theme,” and the heart-wrenching songs from Disney’s golden age of movies like Hercules, Pocahontas and The Hunchback of Notre Dame. Not every film utilizes these legendary composers, though. Not every film has a cohesive soundtrack.
The late ’90s and early 2000s were a blip in time for box-office experiments. It was an era before streaming, marking the last age of physical media. It was post–Star Wars and during a decade of Harry Potter releases, but it was a time for
creativity before our current watches became sequels, remakes, and adaptations of existing media. Studios were throwing anything at the wall and seeing what stuck. This is where we see the start of what I believe to be the most ingenious trend in film history: using contemporary music in period and fantastical pieces. With this, too, I believe we’ll see an evolution of this trend into using a new genre called “Bardcore.” Bardcore music as a genre can be traced back to December of 2017, with a release of a cover of System of a Down’s “Toxicity” uploaded to YouTube by Algal the Bard. The genre itself gained massive popularity over 2020, as many participated in quarantine trends joking about the plague.
Films That Subvert Expectations
Studios were worried about getting butts in theater seats across the world, so they had to get creative. They had to make something new and different that would pique interests. This is how we get Robin Hood: Men in Tights , a satirical film starring Cary Elwes that started this trend. Men in Tights doesn’t exactly use contemporary music as of its 1993 release of the film, but it does something new. As with any satire, it was going to have unconventional remarks and motifs, but its soundtrack is subversive of the established conventions in period films. In the moments where the movie utilizes music, it does it in a style reminiscent of the chart-toppers in the early ’90s.
We see this idea of throwing historical works into the modern age with Baz Luhrmann’s Romeo + Juliet starring Leonardo DiCaprio and Claire Daines, which sets the traditional Shakespeare play in southern California in 1995. The two warring houses become two warring corporations
and the swords become firearms. Luhrmann changes everything but the language of the play itself, illustrating the tragedy of infatuated kids in a way audiences can relate to. With this modern twist, audiences also got a soundtrack that matched the change in the setting: featuring artists like Everclear, Radiohead, and Gavin Friday, this movie takes a whimsical play dreaded by high schoolers across America and recontextualizes it, making it easier to understand. Though this isn’t quite what I mean by contemporary music in whimsical pieces, it sets the stage for its successors who take this modern trend and exploit it to its fullest potential.
Period Pieces and Pop Music
The next film taking advantage of this trend is Barry Sonnenfeld’s Wild Wild West starring Will Smith and Kenneth Branagh, a science fiction twist on the 1850s American southwest. Any movie starring Will Smith is bound to have a track with his name on it that charts. His song “Wild Wild West” plays in the credits of the film, and went on to chart on the US Billboard Top 100 at number one. It’s not unusual for movies to play a pop song during the credits, but its placement and later charting status make Wild Wild West a member of this select group of films.
The best example of this trend is the underrated 2001 film, A Knight’s Tale, starring Heath Ledger (RIP) in which our hero, William Thatcher, and his band of miscreants con their way into knight tournaments to survive after accidentally killing a knight and taking his gear and horse. Eventually, William wins the favor of Prince Edward and becomes formally knighted. The movie, a tense comedy about the struggles of keeping up a lie when the need to survive is greater than anything
else in proximity, is backed by a soundtrack full of late ’70s to ’90s hits featuring bands like Queen, Third Eye Blind, and Heart. The soundtrack mixes beautifully with the story itself, adding a modern layer to the film’s antique feel. Leave it to Heath Ledger to front a movie so unique for its time.
Another, more popular proponent of this trend is the Shrek franchise. Shrek had four theatrical releases within nine years, each containing a soundtrack full of pop hits. The most iconic of the four is Shrek 2, its soundtrack featuring artists like Frou Frou and their cover of “Holding Out For A Hero” and Lipps Inc. with “Funkytown.” It even sports a cover of Ricky Martin’s “Livin’ La Vida Loca” by Eddie Murphy and Antonio Banderas. Set in a fairytale world, Shrek was Dreamworks’ biggest competition for Disney, laughing in the face of the tropes Disney profited from. Their soundtracks and the accompanying scenes often are plays on Hollywood cliches, and that’s part of what makes the movies so iconic. I quite literally can’t hear “Funkytown” without picturing Shrek, Fiona and Donkey entering Far Far Away. The franchise kept up with this concept throughout the next two movies, the shorts and even in-universe TV specials like Scared Shrekless.
Ella Enchanted, starring Anne Hathaway and Hugh Dancy, was a twist on Cinderella that mixed covers of pop songs into its magical movie. Despite being somewhat forgotten, the film itself holds a large layer of whimsy, playing on the success of The Princess Diaries series where Hathaway also starred. The film’s most recognizable song is the cover of Queen’s “Somebody to Love,” performed by Hathaway and Jesse McCartney as they try to distract a party of giants with their dancing. Though it wasn’t quite as successful as previous mentions, it still fits nicely into the trend.
Jumping from 2004 back to 2001, we get the release of Baz Luhrmann’s Moulin Rouge!, a moviemusical set in 1900 about an English writer in Paris becoming infatuated with a dancer at the Moulin Rouge named Satine. Its miscreants feature Broadway-style covers and adaptations of pop music at the time, including hits like “Roxanne” by The Police, “Your Song” by Elton John, and “Like a Virgin” by Madonna. Joining the ranks as one of the first recognizable jukebox musicals gives us a look at what later films and shows did with contemporary music covers, laying the blueprint for Bridgerton and even Pan in one scene.
A New Take on the Trend Takes Over
The trend shifts from explicitly using pop music in period and fantastical pieces to covers of these songs. We see this in the eerie rendition of Nirvana’s “Smells Like Teen Spirit” in the 2015 film, Pan. Though the movie itself is controversial in its casting of the character Tiger Lily, this scene wedged its way into the minds of audiences as it took Nirvana’s well-known hit and made it a fearful shell of its original, as pirates harassed children who wouldn’t sing along. Though brief, it opens up the possibility of more adaptations that move away from the artist’s original intentions in covers.
We see this in the smash hit Netflix show, Bridgerton. Famous for its steamy romance, diversity in regency England, and pure melodrama, Bridgerton — adapted from Julia Quinn’s novels of the same name — features a soundtrack full of classical covers of pop songs. The Bridgerton soundtrack boasts covers of artists like Pitbull, Ariana Grande, Taylor Swift, and even Alanis Morissette. Bridgerton is proof to Hollywood executives that people want period dramas. The
general public wants drama set to pretty costumes and unfamiliar social customs. They want classical covers of pop music. The people deserve more of what Bridgerton has to offer.
That is why I firmly believe that the next step for the industry to take, in terms of fantasy and period pieces, is to take a note from TikTok and comprise their soundtracks of purely Bardcore covers. Hear me out, we’ve seen that classical covers are liked and properly appreciated. We’ve also seen a rise in the popularity of the Bardcore genre — a genre that got its fame over quarantine in 2020, beginning in 2017 and focused on making medieval-style covers of modern hits. Popular renditions include Foster the People’s “Pumped Up Kicks,” Lady Gaga’s “Bad Romance,” and even Radiohead’s “Creep.” It’s no secret that people love the familiar, especially when it’s shaken up just enough to be something interesting. It’s why Glee ran for so long, and why the Shrek franchise is so successful. It would be a huge mistake to avoid the bardcore genre. If Hollywood wants to be smart, they’d cash in on the trend the next time we get a new release that isn’t based on existing media.
by Matthias Gat
Take a look at your Spotify, or Apple Music, if you are one of those people, and think about what most of the music you listen to is even about. Chances are it is about, or based on, real-life experiences or desires the artist has. This isn’t a bad thing by any means, but it’s telling of how a lot of music is literally self-centered. Not just because the song is only about the artist, but this idea that music must take place in our reality. I believe that this has severely limited the creative visions of forthcoming artists. Music is a particularly interesting medium to tell stories through as there are multiple layers that can be utilized. Tempo, time signature, leitmotifs, lyrics, and harmony are only some of the limitless ways stories can be told through music.
Songs are a great way to tell a complex story, but most people tap out of a song after six minutes. Especially when a story has many parts, it’s important to be concise in a song. A concept album eliminates this worry. Sure, you still need to use the allotted time effectively, but you get at least 20 minutes of songs to develop a story. If you think about it, you can trace the idea of a concept album to old operas — a fictional story (many times with some sort of social or political commentary) broken up into musical acts. This idea transitioned into modern musicals. In the 21st century sometimes we see the opposite, like how Hadestown was originally a standalone album before getting adapted as a stage play! The thing is, now, musicals have a sort of cultural monopoly on storytelling through music — especially a fictional one. We see (very good) concept albums that deal with serious or personal subjects, CHROMAKOPIA being about Tyler, The Creator’s personal journey, The Normal Album being about Will Wood’s struggle with fitting into
social norms, and, frankly, anything by Kendrick Lamar. These albums are great, but where is the whimsy? There are just as many artists and concept albums that deal with fictional worlds and stories, and I think one of the best out there is King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard.
King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard is one of the most unique musical acts to date. The six-man group is one of the most successful bands to come out of the Australian psychedelic rock scene. Despite releasing albums yearly, if not monthly, the talented crew seemingly never runs out of musical ideas. With a name like King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard, it’s a given that their songs and albums aren’t afraid to step outside the box when it comes to sound and album structure. Murder of the Universe (2017) is structured like a collection of short stories, each just as intriguing, musically and conceptually, as the next. Split into three parts, each epic is told via King Gizzard’s signature style of odd time signatures, polyrhythms, chromatic sounds and Ambrose Kenny-Smith’s killer harmonica solos.
1. The Tale of the Altered Beast
The Tale of The Altered Beast is about a character being dropped into an unexplored and dangerous world. The main character is being pursued by the Altered Beast, as introduced in the second track. The beast is described as being a monstrous halfman and half-bear — truly something you wouldn’t want to be faced with. Interestingly, this description matches the appearance of the Altered Beast in a 1988 Sega game with the same name. The comparisons don’t even stop there! The Gizz Altered Beast is in pursuit of the main character with the goal of taking over their mind, turning them into a new Altered Beast. The Altered Beast in the Sega game’s main power is transforming! A
really fun allusion that Gizz turned into their own story.
The structure of this tale is reflected in the song titles, switching between “Altered Beast” and “After Me,” with lyrics that call back to each other. For example, “Altered Beast I” starts with the lyrics, “I think I see / An altered beast by a tree,” showing that the main character is new to this world and is unsure of what they are seeing. After the story develops and our protagonist becomes more acquainted with the altered world, the lyrics of “Altered Beast III” change into “I know I see / An altered beast by the tree.” And then, after the Altered Beast in “Altered Beast IV” has taken over the protagonist, they sing, “I think I see / An altered beast inside me.” The eldritch horror vibes of the story are heightened by Stu Mackenzie’s deep and rumbling voice that he uses whenever the Altered Beast is directly talking to the listener. The creative cherry on top of it all is that it really does sound like we are listening to an old fairy tale, as a female voice occasionally interrupts the song and begins talking as if she were reading from a book, describing the interactions between the character and the altered beast. The Tale of the Altered Beast is some of King Gizzard’s best storytelling work.
2. The Lord of Lightning vs Balrog
In a pretty significant shift in tone, The Lord of Lightning vs Balrog is the tale of an epic battle. The same female voice from the last part is present in this section, too, only this time she finally gets a name: The Reticent Raconteur. Whenever a verse contains the lyrics “Lord of Lightning shifts his gaze / Points his strong finger our way,” the instruments hit alongside each syllable, as if each word is met with rolling
thunder cast by the Lord himself. The Balrog is introduced in the song with his name. After the introduction of the Balrog, the fight begins in the song “The Floating Fire.” From the moment the song starts, it feels like you are climbing up the top of a mountain to confront the Lord of Lightning himself — the drums beating in your headphones like the elevated heartbeat of the Balrog. The battle, sadly, ends with the Balrog being defeated. The final song of this story, “Acrid Corpse,” details his final moments before he succumbs to death.
3. Han-Tyumi & The Murder of the Universe
The third and final story is the lore of the cyborg Han-Tyumi told in musical form. This was HanTyumi’s debut in the King Gizzard fictional world and he immediately became loved by the fanbase. He is featured in many merch designs and is even on the cover of Gizz’s 2019 album, Fishing for Fishies! Han-Tyumi’s story is about trying to hold onto humanity despite being a robot. For reference, his story takes place in a dystopian future where peoples’ consciousness is put inside cyborgs — Han-Tyumi wants to reclaim humanity by regaining the ability to do two things: vomit and die. Han-Tyumi is successful in his endeavor; however, he cannot stop vomiting and begins to grow in size before the whole universe is covered in bile — Han-Tyumi has become the universe. HanTyumi narrates this whole experience with his sad robotic voice. It feels like you are listening to a hologram of a civilization that is long gone. While “Murder of the Universe” is the final song of the album, the story doesn’t end there. If you loop the entire album back to the beginning, the first track, the lyrics start with “As the dust settles, you can see / A new world in place of where the old one had been.” All these stories
have taken place in the same universe, and HanTyumi has caused the universe not just to die but to reset. The insane writing on King Gizzard’s part takes advantage of using a single album to tell these three stories.
This is one of the most effective uses of storytelling through an album, period. This album is a must-listen for any psych-rock, scifi, or really any music fan. And for anyone who wants to make music, take some notes from this album and don’t be afraid to be weird! Think outside the box, tell a goofy story; it’s okay to be whimsical!
Overview
I’m sitting on a Zoom call with Ralph Covert, the mastermind behind famed children’s music outfit Ralph’s World, and asking him what his philosophy on happiness is. He promises me he has the ultimate story — he just needs to refill his coffee cup first.
I’ve always been under the impression that happiness is great music and great music is happiness. To kindie rock artists — children’s performers whose music is heavily influenced by the indie rock scenes they came up in — the two have always been intertwined. As a child raised on hair metal and The Beatles, I devoured the sophisticated hooky-ness of kindie rockers Dan Zanes and Steve Blunt and Covert. There were others too, like They Might Be Giants, Imagination Movers, Laurie Berkner, and Barenaked Ladies, and as I did more research for this project, I realized the bar band-to-birthday party connection was far stronger than I could ever have imagined. Maybe someday I’ll make a documentary.
Me, age 3, with my Ralph’s World T-Shirt
For now, due to the limitations of a few thousand words, I continue to find myself focused on what makes these musicians happy. Why do these people, who once dreamed of sweaty, crotch-grabbing glory, make music for children? In fact, why the heck would
they want to go anywhere near children? Aren’t children annoying? Wasn’t I annoying as a child?
As I’ve grown, I’ve found that these questions haven’t weighed any lighter on my mind. Therefore, in an attempt to finally bridge the gaps, I set out to define the artists whose music defined my youth. Speaking to Blunt and Covert provided me with a VIP pass to a bizarre, joyous era of American music, one that slapped me across the face with its shocking anecdotes and kidnapped my heart with its unexpected ups-and-downs.
Usually you wouldn’t want children’s musicians to be good at kidnapping, but I’d hardly call these guys your run-of-the-mill kiddie singers.
Funny Circles
Dan Zanes grew up in New Hampshire with Pete Seeger and Ella Jenkins ringing in his ears, and power chords vibrating throughout his nerves. When he and his brother Warren moved to Boston and formed garage rock group The Del Fuegos, they quickly developed a local following, fusing DIY folk sensibilities with hard-nosed rockabilly, and snatching Rolling Stone’s Best New Band of 1984 award. Following their first two albums, the excellent The Longest Day and Boston, Mass., it seemed the sky was the limit.
“We weren’t interested in getting a record contract, per se,” Dan Zanes later reflected. “We just wanted to make records so we could keep playing in front of people.”
Sadly, it would be this awkwardness to commerciality that eventually killed The Del Fuegos, stranding them in a cloud of infighting, mixed critical reviews, and beer commercials by the end of the ‘80s.
Around this time, Ralph Covert’s Bad Examples were gaining a reputation in the Chicago underground
for their acerbic wit and tight power pop. Covert, the son of two church choir members, grew up loving punk records just as much as the “hardcore satire” of cartoonist Walt Kelly, writing his first song at the age of eight and spending his teenage years pouring through German music magazines. The Bad Examples’ debut album, MEAT: The Bad Examples (1987), is perhaps the finest reflection of these obsessions, an ebullient gem with Elvis Costelloesque lyrics and Paul Westerberg vocal whine.
“I just try to write great songs,” Covert told me. “To me, a great song has to have all the elements that a great song’s gotta have. You have to have great, catchy lyrics, interesting melodies, fun chord sequences… A great song’s a great song.”
Fans responded to Covert’s musical devotion with their own devotion. He spoke of people planning their entire monthly calendars around attending Bad Examples gigs and always letting the mood of the room control the setlists. This led to more than his fair share of bizarre interactions, including one particular incident in which an inebriated fan admitted to… exploring herself. To the music.
“What do you even say to that?” Covert laughed. “Come again?”
The Bad Examples were as free-spirited as their fans — it was the secret sauce that made them so special. Even Steve Blunt, who grew up in Chicago, recalls his friends being into Covert’s music.
“There are some funny circles,” Steve Blunt told me.
Blunt grew up in the Chicago suburbs loving three things: The Beatles, Bill Haley, and ‘70s novelty tunes. He may well be the only professional musician who continues to cite Rick Dees’ “Disco Duck” as a major influence, though he repeatedly corrected me on the “professional” part.
“I’ve always been the worst guitarist in the room,” Blunt said. “Seriously. I’m horrible.”
This lack of talent didn’t stop him, as he learned a few basic chords and joined a crappy band in high school with his buddy Otis Ball. Blunt would later help Ball put together a demo tape, and when the two sent it to a hot new indie band called They Might Be Giants, Ball received a record deal from Bar/None Records. The two would soon move to New York City together — Ball to make his first album, and Blunt to study at Columbia Teachers College.
During this period, Blunt remembers meeting TMBG’s John Flansburgh and John Linnell during the recording of their geek-rock opus Lincoln and listening in on an early recording of “Anna Ng.” He even recalls, as a friendly gesture, the two Johns singing backup on Ball’s record Love You Til I Don’t.
“The great thing for me is,” Blunt said, “the parts that [Flansburgh and Linnell] learned to sing were sung in Illinois by my mom and sister on the demo tape.”
As you probably already know, Otis Ball didn’t explode up the charts. Neither did TMBG, though their follow-up album Flood would establish a different sort of national audience: little kids who watched Tiny Toon Adventures. The animated series would feature music videos for Flood favorites “Istanbul (Not Constantinople)” and “Particle Man,” both of which contained the tinny drum machine, bizarre lyrics, and 12-bit whimsy TMBG had been known for. It might be too strong to call Flood the first “kindie rock” album (it features a song called “Your Racist Friend”), but whether they knew it or not, Flansbergh and Linnell had set the blueprint for a far friendliersounding alt-rock that would lie dormant until it exploded in the 2000s.
Rock-n-Roll Rebirth
In 1996, Dan Zanes was sitting in a little Jamaican restaurant in Greenwich Village with an interviewer named Larry Katz. Zanes had just put out his debut studio album Cool Down Time, a success with music critics but a commercial failure overall. Katz compared Zanes’ album to several others that started out slow but gained momentum, such as Sheryl Crow’s debut Tuesday Night Music Club, which eventually won a Grammy for the single “All I Wanna Do.”
Zanes didn’t sound too confident about that notion.
By 2000, the ex-Del Fuego would be a family man in New York reeling from the idea of two failed career attempts. To rediscover what music meant to him, he began recording demo tapes and handing them out to children in his neighborhood.
“There was never any thought to taking it further,” Zanes said to Pif Magazine’s Misha Angrist. “I wasn’t ‘plotting my next move.’ I had studio space over in Globe Studios and recorded some things.”
Yet Zanes would soon discover he’d stumbled upon a niche audience, one that was spreading his cassettes throughout the city like a jolly plague. He began receiving proper requests to play concerts in parks, and when he finally decided to parlay his newfangled success into a proper album, he invited colleagues like Suzanne Vega and the aforementioned Crow to come along with him. The result of his hard work was Dan Zanes and Friends’ Rocket Ship Beach, a defining release of my childhood and the first album on the musician’s Festival Five record label. Filled to the brim with folk numbers from Zanes’ childhood, Rocket Ship Beach functioned as its own pint-sized American songbook, running the gamut from the
rootsy “Polly Wolly Doodle,” to the harmonious “Brown Girl in the Ring,” to the driving roots rocker “Mole in the Ground.”
For the first time in a long time, it seemed Dan Zanes was having fun making music. By 2007 he would have a show on Disney Channel, a Grammy, and five children’s albums to his name — all of which featured homemade mixtures of rock, soul, traditional country, and musical theater, as well as collaborations from Aimee Mann, Lou Reed, and X’s John Doe.
“Somewhere along the line, kids’ music became this thing you had to endure for a few years before getting into ‘grown-up’ music,” Zanes said to Angrist. “Well, why? Why can’t everyone listen to music together?” * * *
By 2001, Ralph Covert seemed to be asking himself that same question.
In the midst of a Bad Examples hiatus, Covert had begun teaching a music class for youngsters at Chicago’s Old Town School of Folk Music. Following a chance encounter with Jim Powers, the founder of local record label Minty Fresh, he received an offer to make a children’s record.
“Kids’ records suck,” Covert told him.
However, being the music-obsessed human he was, Covert didn’t rule out the idea of making a “great album that kids love,” one that resembled the thousands of rock records he tore through as a teen and never pandered to any cheesy children’s music conventions. Powers loved the idea and signed him, enabling Covert to adopt a new moniker, “Ralph’s World,” and write the songs he wanted to write. The result was 2001’s Ralph’s World, a solid gold debut that made Covert a household name — in houses with child-proof table edges. As his career progressed, he doubled-down
on authenticity, covering Walt Kelly’s “Go Go Pogo” on 2003’s Peggy’s Pie Parlor and copying Sex Pistols production techniques on 2006’s Grammy-nominated Green Gorilla Monster & Me. The trick, Covert found, was to treat his audiences like drunken Bad Examples fans — albeit with a lot more “jumping, bouncing, singing, and acting like bunny rabbits.”
“There’s a little bit of targeting in a kids’ song,” he said. “With a kids’ song, you’re yearning for a pet, and with a grown-up song you’re gonna be yearning for a girlfriend. Either way you want someone to sleep with.”
The next logical step would be to spread this joy visually, but just as Covert was ready to ink a television deal with National Geographic Kids, the head of his label attempted to steal his identity.
This would be the first of three doomed television shows.
The second came when the singer left Minty Fresh for Walt Disney Records and released 2008’s The Rhyming Circus — a damn fine record, regardless of whether or not you had children. This was the album that introduced me to Ralph’s World, and with it a wider understanding of what music could, and should, be. It was punk. It was new wave. It moved like Paul McCartney, but spoke in nursery rhymes. It would surely be his biggest album yet.
The Rhyming Circus was set to be promoted on Disney’s 2008 Summer Block Party tour, a massive, 87-date celebration featuring artists like Zanes, They Might Be Giants, and Barenaked Ladies (before lead singer Steven Page got busted for cocaine). When all was said and done, the financial crisis would kill the middle 80 shows.
The Rhyming Circus would never get its shot at ringleader.
“That was the day the music died,” Covert said. “I think [Rhyming Circus] was an absolutely brilliant record, and it just went into the fire sale of history.”
Listening to Ralph Covert tell this story, I get a feeling he still thinks about these sliding doors a lot. He never released another album with Disney (even though he had enough songs), and the network rejected his musical television pilot in favor of labelmates Imagination Movers.
“The whole industry had tanked.”
* * *
In 2002, English teacher Steve Blunt went into producer Brian Coombes’ basement in Manchester, NH to cut his debut album Hang On, Henry. He’d been experimenting with children’s songwriting for a while, submitting demos to Emerson College’s 88.9 WERS and using music as a teaching tool, but this would be his first foray into official recording. He talks about this experience fondly to this day, reflecting on its significance to his career and reminiscing on a guest spot from ex-Bar/Nonesignee Otis Ball.
He didn’t know it at the time, but Steve Blunt was about to become King of New England Libraries. All he had to do was hustle.
“In 2003,” Blunt said, “New Hampshire’s summer reading theme was ‘Reading rocks the Granite State.’ So I had the bright idea, “Oh! I should write a song called ‘Reading Rocks the Granite State!’ And then that’ll be a good way to market myself and then I’ll go around and sing to all these nice kids and families and libraries.”
Steve’s shows were a staple of my youth, and I especially recall one at the J.V. Fletcher Library in Westford, MA. That’s where I, like so many others, discovered Hang On, Henry , and I must have played my CD copy over five hundred
times. There was something so economical, yet so pleasing, about the simplicity of his narratives. “Hang On, Henry,” a harmonicadriven ditty about a little boy flying away on a kite, was written while he was home on paternity leave and watching children fly kites in the park. “Goin’ to the Playground” was about going to the playground. And you’ll never guess the heartbreaking origin of “Macaroni and Cheese,” a searing metaphor for class warfare and the sins of our fathers—
Just kidding. It’s about macaroni and cheese. And it sounds like a fucking Sublime song.
Blunt attributes this spare musicianship to his limited range, though this style is ultimately what makes him so memorable. Because so many of his songs are built on basic repetition, kids would memorize them, and parents would ask libraries to invite him back each summer. He described the arrangement as “serendipitous.”
“I would come in and feel like a rock star,” Blunt says, “because there was a little cadre of kids belting it out on ‘Hang On, Henry.’”
Nowadays, Steve tells me, this fandom is less and less common. He’s endlessly grateful — the kids are still enjoying his concerts, and libraries and schools are more than willing to book him — but with the advent of the Internet, it seems there’s no good place for his music anymore. He tells me about some parents refusing free copies of CD’s because they don’t own CD players, and he believes he’s being somewhat phased out by “Baby Shark.”
“My music has changed into a focus on engaging kids through actions. Rather than expecting that they’re going to sit and listen to a piece that’s more focused on language.”
Choosing to Laugh
Ralph Covert’s first paid solo gig was at a summer arts fair in the Chicago suburbs. Halfway through “Bad Girl,” a song that would later end up on MEAT, he had his set cut short by a disgruntled sound guy who claimed it wasn’t “appropriate for public performance.”
Fast-forward to 2020, and that same singer is sitting in a fake treehouse and talking to two puppets. Like all musicians during the pandemic, Covert had to pivot, and he pivoted to TV Treehouse, a self-produced, 20-episode web series created from the ashes of a previously-cancelled 2012 public access show (his third doomed foray into television). The idea of something so beautiful forming from a barren wasteland of a year speaks to Covert’s unbreakable creative spirit, and in my amazement, I asked him the question I’d been wanting to ask him for nearly two hours (and seventeen years):
“You seem so happy doing what you’re doing… What’s your philosophy on life and on making music?”
When he came back from refilling his coffee, Ralph Covert sat down and cleared his throat.
“My youngest sister Nancy was born with Mosaic Down syndrome.”
He told me about Nancy overcoming the odds and graduating high school in a time when people with Down syndrome were often institutionalized. He told me about Nancy moving to Kentucky with his parents and living on her own. He told me about Nancy being run over by a sun-blinded driver and sustaining a traumatic brain injury. He told me about Nancy battling back and relearning how to walk and talk and paint again.
And then he told me about Nancy receiving a special award from United Way called the United Way Courage Award.
“Nancy,” the head of the program asked her. “You have had so many obstacles in your life, so many things you’ve had to overcome, and yet you’re so full of joy and so happy. What’s your secret?”
Covert pauses for a long time.
“Nancy said, ‘I could laugh or I could cry… I choose to laugh.’”
Self-portrait, Nancy Covert
Every person in this article chose to laugh, and they all continue to laugh to this day. How could they not? The world is a peculiar place, and I learned that musicians inhabit its most peculiar parts (and eat the majority of its shit). I used to think it was so bizarre that a group of rockand-roll refugees found solace in singing about animals, but after writing this, I think it’s one of the sanest things in the world.
“Kids cheer me up,” Steve Blunt said. “I don’t actually think I’m the most cheerful person in the world. But you work with kids and you feel that hopefulness and that connection and that positivity… They just need somebody to be kind to them.”
I think maybe Blunt is leaving out a small part of the equation. It’s clear that these kindie rockers need somebody to be kind to them as well, and if that somebody can be an audience
of children, then so be it. It isn’t the genre an artist performs in that matters, but the way they inhabit that genre. Look at Dan Zanes, who currently resides in Baltimore with his wife Claudia and continues to not only make children’s music, but make it as universal as possible through sensory-friendly performances and social justice advocacy.
“Everybody’s thinking about new beginnings and new possibilities,” he told NPR in 2021. “So many things haven’t worked. But what can we do to make them work?”
Dan and Claudia played their first sensoryfriendly show at Chicago’s Old Town School of Folk Music in 2016, the same place Jim Powers approached Ralph Covert all those years ago. I would laugh at this fact and call it a coincidence, but after personally witnessing the life-changing power of these performers, I choose to believe something magical is happening.
visual by Matthias Gat
by Jagger van Vliet
It would be unthinkable in America. Perfectly impossible. Downright de trop.
A viewing of Australian punk outfit Amyl and the Sniffers performing their hit song “Jerkin’” would likely send any pearl-clutching Puritanical into full-blown cardiac arrest.
Amyl and the Sniffers don’t seem to care in the least.
Unsurprisingly, their hit track “Jerkin’” is chock-full of expletives and innuendos. But rather than strong-arming the band into performing a tastelessly clean version, the talk show “The Last Leg” decided to make a game out of it. Given a large red button, the host explained that he would try his best to bleep the vulgar lines in real time. Naturally, this only halfway worked, leaving the remaining expletives free to erupt into every Australian living room.
As far as punk is concerned, Australia is doing something right.
In recent years, some of the brightest stars in the punk scene have called the land down under their home. Just look at that motley crew of mulleted hooligans calling themselves The Chats. Or take the rising star Genesis Owusu’s influence in dance-punk. It seems no matter where you look, Australia is catapulting the most exciting, downright boisterous acts onto the world’s stage and beyond.
Between dropping F-bombs on live television and titling songs “I’ve Been Drunk in Every Pub in Brisbane,” Australian punk refuses to shy away from fun — directly opposed to the self-serious tendencies of many American circles. From every
rooftop in Melbourne to all the basements of Sydney, it is easy to hear the unspoken agreement: Demolish the humorless walls in the scene — no matter what.
But the questions remain: “What is it about Australia?” “What is in the air?” “What is the secret recipe that’s breathing life back to music?”
Aussies will joke that any country where the spiders are the size of your face is bound to produce some killer punk rock. True enough, Australia hosts scores of Earth’s deadliest creatures, but the most poisonous, historically speaking, has always been the British.
If history tells us anything, it’s that nations kept under imperialist control will invariably rebel. Australia is no exception. Originally a colony for England’s convicts, debtors and ne’er-do-wells, Australia continued to bear the weight of British rule even after starting free settlements. This history inevitably shaped Australian Larrikinism, a term coined by the British to label troublemakers and rebellious youths who opposed arbitrary authority.
As it would happen, Australians came to embrace Larrikin as an endearing title, one that captured the true spirit of Aussie culture. As described by author Melissa Bellanta, most Australians understand a Larrikin to be “a bloke who refuses to stand on ceremony and is a bit of a scallywag.”
Crucially, Australians note that “bloke” and “Larrikin” apply to both women and men.
Once fully independent from imperialist control, priority number one for Australian artists was making a clear separation between themselves and the empire that had dominated them for too long. Modern Australian punk, come fully in its loudest, electric form, would be nowhere without the pioneers who made this distinction clear.
Brisbane’s The Saints are generally considered to be the first Australian punk outfit, breaking onto the scene with a new blend of influences: all multi-varied, multinational and, most importantly, defiant of all things proper. The Saints began rehearsing out of a rented house opposite the local police station, establishing a sentiment of unsettling the settled, even among the earliest Australian rockers.
A myriad of other noteworthy bands blossomed from this emerging scene, namely: Radio Birdman, The Last Words, Cheap Nasties, and Black Chrome. Black Chrome’s Simon Stretton would go on to found Tomorrow Records, a label that springboarded dozens of other nascent acts. Many of these early bands, Radio Birdman and The Saints among them, also featured musicians from immigrant families, further defining Australian punk as fiercely new and unabashedly free-thinking.
So… what results from a nation built on rejecting imperialists, norms, and just about every other convention?
The answer: A veritable supernova, instantly recognizable as the Aussie punk we know today. Australian punk, more than its British or American counterparts, relishes in a certain reckless abandon. Where British punk pushes political outrage and Americans lend themselves to angst, Aussie Punk breathes chaos for chaos’ sake: raw, rowdy, and unavoidably irreverent. It is the sound of a country that has never taken authority seriously, and never will.
Now, Australia boasts hundreds of punkers, all marching to the beat of rebellion and fully embracing the fun unavoidably suffused into every note.
But the secret to Australian punk’s recent popularity isn’t just in its rich musical roots. Undeniably, it must be credited to a relentless
work ethic, often in the face of adversity. In 2022, United Australian Music Industry publicly apologized for misconduct within record labels and widespread managerial abuse. Bands trying to make it out of the underground scene were often met with unfair treatment from all manner of venues, record labels, studios, and radio stations.
In this turbulent scene, only the best of the best find a way through the roadblocks. However, by no means are they taking this abuse sitting down. These artists work nine-to-five blue-collar jobs, take Friday off to drive from Sydney to Melbourne, and are subsequently harassed by a venue for missing soundcheck by five minutes. If you think they aren’t going to blow the whole roof off, you’re sorely mistaken.
Australian punks are nothing to bat your eye at on the international stage either. Amyl and the Sniffers have embarked on their 2025 multi-continent world tour, and Genesis Owusu has already amassed a slew of hardware, chiefly National Live Music Awards’ best live act award.
Look no further than the hundreds of Spotify playlists springing up, all filled with new and emerging Aussie punk talent. The world is waking up to the Aussie way. Gone are the days of clutching pearls, and bleeping rude words. It’s time to jump around the living room. It’s time to turn up the volume. It’s time to have some fun.
visual by Rebecca Calvar
by Max Ardrey
At the onset of another warm Southern California night, 19-year-old bassist Zoe Webster decided she needed some rest. Squatting down from where she was standing, Webster coiled herself into a fetal position on the hard pavement outside a Los Angeles music venue. She took a breath. It had been a long day. She wasn’t on fire, yet she still felt the need to stop, drop, and roll at her earliest possible convenience. In reality, the only things burning that night were the tips of her fingers after a day of relentless plucking and slapping upon the strings of her weapon of rhythm: her faithful bass guitar. As she curled up on the ground, she believed she had earned her rest after a long day’s work.
This is the life of someone like Webster, a bassist-for-hire. She has found herself in a unique position, which many young musicians are discovering may be their ticket to success.
After forging many connections on Vampr — a location-based social and professional networking platform she described as a “musical Tinder” — Webster soon had her work cut out for her. After only a year living in California, she largely plays bass for three Los-Angeles-based groups: Babyfangs, Ultra Violet, and Trophy Eddy.
Babyfangs, which Webster describes as “sad girl bedroom pop,” is led by frontwoman Ava Wilson. Their collaboration began when Wilson reached out to Webster via Vampr. Babyfangs has two released singles, “Feelings Bleed” and “Prima Bella Donna,” as well as several songs not yet recorded, and numerous upcoming music videos.
As a founding member of the rock band Ultra Violet, Webster admits that she and the rest of the group are “still finding their sound.” Outside of playing bass, she serves the band with her managerial skills; she books gigs, all the while grooving along to Ultra Violet’s rock-based originals and occasional cover of The Strokes. While she hasn’t landed on what specific kind of music they play, Webster paints a picture of the quintessential house show band: A musical act for heated functions that can quickly adapt to the audience’s desires.
And finally, as a new addition to the rockreggae band Trophy Eddy, Webster can often be heard performing their two released singles, “Screaming Out!” and “Museums.” Regarding the group, Abbie Harris writes in Kerosene Magazine, “There are few bands I have seen so up close at the very beginning of their time together that I have immediately recognized in them the potential for incredible success.” Most recently, they were featured on the sixth episode of Loyola Marymount University’s Tiny Dorm web series, a series of small-scale concerts filmed in campus living spaces.
Webster’s involvement in these bands demonstrates the different contributions a musician can make in a collaborative group.
For Babyfangs, Webster is simply a bassist for Ava Wilson, the creative head of the group. She provides the bass playing during recording sessions but does not have much input on songwriting or creative
direction. She plays her parts with precision, but her role remains strictly supportive. In Babyfang’s wider picture, Webster is a presence felt more than a voice heard.
Meanwhile, Webster describes her role within Ultra Violet as “different entirely.” Her creative contributions to the house show band are more significant. Typically, she offers consultation on the band’s setlists and originals during the rehearsals where the band writes their music together. Webster has more liberty to guide the artistic direction of Ultra Violet, when compared with her experience in the more singular, personalized vision of Babyfangs.
Webster's involvement in these bands demonstrates the different contributions a musician can make in a collaborative group.
With Trophy Eddy, the mellowed-out third arm of Webster’s musical escapades, Webster expresses how it can be difficult to join an already established group: “It’s definitely scary because they’ve known each other as friends and as musicians and played together a lot longer. And so I was like ‘Oh, is it gonna be awkward?’” Despite her initial worries, she quickly found a place among her bandmates (as she very often does, given her frequent collaborative work). “I love them so much and really am grateful to be in [Trophy Eddy].”
Webster goes on to clarify that she does not expressly prefer one version of band participation to another, suggesting there is satisfaction and pleasure to be derived from playing bass in different band environments. However, she occasionally finds it difficult to cope with the practical ramifications of memorizing so many songs,
attending so many rehearsals, and performing at so many late-night house shows and festivals:
“I think what really can be weird is that everything is a different genre of music. Each group that I play with is very different vibes. You just have to be super on top of the material. You can only have so many songs that you know crammed into your head at once.”
Having to be “super on top” of her workload is aptly put, given the time-sink that her bassline vocation has turned out to be. Her commitment to these musical acts, as well as the occasional recording session or pop-up gig Webster quaintly refers to as “odd jobs,” take up most of her time. Webster’s rehearsal schedule culminates on her weekends, where she will often have three separate shows. When asked how frequently she plays bass, she answers frankly: “Every day.”
Her efforts may be what the Los Angeles music scene needs. As far as Webster knows, she’s representing an endangered species: “Bassists are in high demand right now, [it] feels like there’s literally no bassists. Everyone needs a bassist. And specifically a girl bassist. I hate to say that I do not meet many.” Webster recalls attending a music festival with Ultra Violet where she was the only woman slated to play that night. “We played with four other bands that night and I was the only girl onstage the entire time.”
Despite her grueling schedule, Webster displays a level-headed disposition and confidence in her abilities. She remembers an interaction with the session guitarist for Babyfangs, Ashlen Mezrahi, that she believes changed her perception of herself as a musician: “She sat me down. She was like, ‘Zoe, you have to be a slut as a musician. You have to plant your seed everywhere you physically can.’” This advice ultimately pushed her to the bass-playing extremes she has reached today.
Though she occasionally feels overworked, Webster asserts contentment with her situation. She is proud of her accomplishments, such as recently opening for rapper and singer Baby Tate. She views each performance, rehearsal, and collaboration as a stepping stone in her everevolving journey as a musician, embracing the challenges that come with her demanding schedule.
However, she is honest about her limits. “If I was asked to join another project, I would say ‘no.’ I would say ‘absolutely not,’” Webster jests. She remembers a specific moment in her career where, after a long day of continuous playing, she had to stop in her tracks to take a rest on the ground. “[It was] after I had rehearsal for one band, and then a gig for another, and then another late-night rehearsal. I literally was pooped and I still had homework to do.”
But such is life for the utility player: finding whatever opportunity possible to maximize their talents and going to the furthest extent to express themselves. While Webster’s exertion — and the pavement power nap it spawned — might seem fatiguing to some, those with a drive as electric as an amp will find themselves jumping up from the pavement to begin sprinting towards the promise of a finish line.
visual by Rebecca Calvar
Not What You Say BUt How You Say It
Creative Direction Behind Emerging and Established Artists
by Laura Bott
Why did Lady Gaga wear that meat on the red carpet in 2010? Whose idea was it to put powder in the Charli XCX vinyl? How did Chappell Roan synthesize her image so eloquently that she could be a nun on stage one night and Lady Liberty the next while remaining cohesive? These are all valid inquiries one may have when lying awake late at night pondering life. When we become absorbed in the every move of our favorite artists, we become further attuned to the various whimsical, unexpected, or out-of-the-box moments that shape their personas; yet few stop to ask who may be behind the scenes helping with the molding and magic of these artists. In this piece, we’ll dive deep into some influential creative directors today who are heavily involved with the strategic processes of the visual development of musicians, dreaming up visuals and conceptual magic that stick with an audience long after it has left their sight.
1. Ramisha (Misha) Sattar - Chappell Roan
If you don’t know Misha, you cannot fully understand the intricacies behind the curation of Chappell Roan’s vibrant, camp aesthetic, coming to fruition throughout her past ten years trying to break into the music industry. Misha’s collages and art, blending the digital realm
with physical work like printmaking and graphic design, originally attracted Roan in 2022, from which they began working together regularly.
Misha utilizes a range of striking pinks, blues, and reds with playful imagery in her designs for merchandise and artwork, while also assisting with photoshoots, music videos, and more — for example, her contributions to The Rise and Fall of a Midwest Princess vinyl packaging included a set of paper dolls that could be crafted by fans with an accompanying paper stage. With Roan’s newest single, “The Giver,” the singer and Misha Sattar have worked together on crafting recent unique billboards and posters for rollout; so far, these billboards have mimicked dental and law firm advertisements with play on words and fun twists. Her hands have touched everything from Roan’s Instagram posts to how her SNL debut performance was presented to the audience. Not only has she accompanied Roan’s creative choices throughout every step in her recent emergence to fame, but they have also heartwarmingly become best friends, both on and off camera. As combined and curated, each of these many projects contribute to Roan’s visual status and association with a do-it-yourself attitude, unapologetic boldness, and campy style that has resonated so heavily with queer and surrounding communities, propelling her into the pop star she is today — all with a little help from her friends.
2. Nicola Formichetti - Lady Gaga
Longtime collaborator of Gaga’s, Nicola Formichetti is no stranger to the oddities and wildness of the superstar’s persona. He jumped on board and helped to create many of Gaga’s signature looks and appearances, especially during the Born This Way era — which became known as a musical period of individuality and powerful, flamboyant expression. For over two decades, Formichetti has collaborated with Gaga, most prominently within the areas of fashion and visual direction on photoshoots and videos. Each of his projects has set the scene for a cultural moment that cannot be ignored. Formichetti pushes boundaries of the imagination, embodying a cohesive vision for Gaga within her videos, fashion and more. These works have included his contributions to Gaga’s “birthing” from goo outfit representing rebirth, or her 2011 Grammys entrance in which she arrived within an egg/vessel. Undoubtedly, it would be a disservice not to mention his collaboration with artist Franc Fernandez on the infamous meat dress that was worn at the 2010 MTV awards. Though initially appealing to shock value, each of the creative choices holds a deeper meaning for Gaga and Formichetti as they play with themes of personal understanding of the self, queer expression, and social norms. While we all remember where we were when we first discovered the off-putting yet captivating images of Gaga adorned in 50 pounds of raw beef, its real purpose behind this shock factor was to protest against the military’s “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” policy for sexual identity.
Despite being over two decades old, the projects mentioned have inspired and set the stage for emerging artists such as Roan who continue to make statements with their controversial yet extremely creative pursuits in how they showcase themselves as musicians, and how this manifests into the creation of an icon.
3. C Prinz - Doechii
If you watched the Grammys this year and found yourself thinking, “these performances and awards are actually good for once,” remember to give credit where credit is due. Artists like Doechii, emerging after years of A&R and creative development, provided memorable and unique performances that were visually iconic and appealing as well as musically exemplary. Moving floors, Thom Browne, multiple outfits, choreographed routines and a theme of Doechii’s individuality in a sea of her clones were all condensed into a 3-minute performance that was executed seamlessly. The initial concept for this intricate show was introduced by none other than Doechii’s creative director, C Prinz. In all her work, C Prinz tests the limits between the viewer’s initial first impressions and how these can be subverted through choreography and expression. For instance, Doechii’s 2022 music video for her single “Crazy” was not received well by YouTube by any means, which threatened to ban it from the platform after its release. The video, directed by C Prinz, features a group of blurred, but nude, women. It takes the viewer on a journey of chaos and intensity as these women engage in violence, powerful dance, and express unfiltered
rage. The visual elements seek to push audiences to overcome their initial perceptions of sexuality and rechannel that into feelings of liberation and uncontained power for all women. While often unconventional, C Prinz makes creative choices that subvert the perception of the artist from potentially unusual, weird or unbecoming and instead use these expectations to create powerful statements aligning with Doechii’s music and hip hop as a genre of empowerment.
4. Matthew Josephs - FKA Twigs
If I walked past FKA Twigs on the street, I would most likely run in the opposite direction; her otherworldly presence is both intimidating and effortlessly cool and makes a lot of sense when examining her music and life journey. I mean, she’s quite literally a trained sword fighter. And behind this aura, lies a mastermind who frequently plays with reality-bending looks that complement and enhance it. To say Matthew Joseph styles FKA Twigs would be an understatement. He understands how body movement impacts the composition of a photo to the extreme, and how color plays with the eye. Through these elements alone, he has been able to direct countless FKA Twigs photoshoots, capturing the futuristic and experimental vision of the artist and music at its core. He has a habit of subverting and playing with traditional gender norms, blurring the lines of androgyny
with outfits and accessories. He and Twigs come together to create curated looks in magazines like Wonderland, CLASH, and Twigs’ own digizine, AVANTgarden. Surrealism, alienlike textures, and a balance between minimalism and archival couture work hand in hand in every photo, video, or piece of merchandise to embody living, breathing pieces of artwork.
5. Ana Peralta Chong - hemlocke springs
While perhaps one of the lesserknown artists on this list, Hemlocke Springs is distinctive and eclectic at heart with her nostalgic combination of ’80s synth-pop, EDM and alternative/ indie elements that come together to create dreamy melodies and experimental textures. Often described as quirky, her bright pastel colors, raw vocals, and playful actions in her media make her stand out as a risk-taker in music in her own way. Assisting with maintaining the fantastical portrayal of visuals to accompany Hemlocke Springs’ music is creative director Ana Peralta Chong. From the camcorder-style of shooting to the whimsical, almost surreal set designs, Chong’s projects have included her “Girlfriend” music video, which amassed over 2 million views and contributed to the song’s growing TikTok virality at the time. This video seems to place Springs in her own personal space, engaging in childlike movements like stomping her feet or playing with stuffed animals that create a sense of contemplation and
pure expression. While the song depicts a desire to remain nonchalant and cool as she is asked out by a girl, the video reflects her inner feelings that are anything but. Ana Peralta Chong builds worlds through storytelling in each video concept, as well as contributing to the branding of Hemlocke Springs that has showcased the heart of her operations: fun. Acknowledging the internet-savvy aesthetic of generations today, Chong leans into appealing to Gen Z through her direction that plays off of pixelated graphics, jump cuts, and other playful edits and unconventional framing. Directing Spring’s music video “Sever The Blight,” Chong crafts a medieval fantasy narrative featuring sword fights, animated oil paintings, and theatrical dancing. There is a DIY feel to her work with Springs that feels both comforting and innovative, almost like an homage to the 2000s internet culture that resonates with audiences and has helped to establish Hemlocke Springs as an artist with a unique yet palpable voice.
6. Imogene Strauss - Charli XCX, Troye Sivan, Clairo, etc.
When looking at creative directors, it would be a disservice not to mention one of the queens of modernday behind-the-scenes string-pulling in music: Imogene Strauss. Starting off in artist management roles for musicians like Solange, she pivoted to creative direction and has become a multi-disciplinary director for era-defining artists. While you may not recognize the name, you have undoubtedly seen one of her various creations, or perhaps on the Grammys stage this year, where she accepted a “Best Recording Package” Grammy for Charli XCX’s Brat. Yet, while
she’s done exceptional work on promo and graphics, her main passions currently lie in the realm of fan experience, which manifests through elaborate stage design. Tapping into the whimsical nature of Clairo’s newest album Charm, Strauss worked with Claire Cottrill to create a stage setup for her 2025 Charm tour that aligned with the introspective and playful elements of the album laced with jazz and soft rock influences. This concept featured a ’70s-inspired conversation pit through the placement of stairs, comfy chairs, and instruments circling the middle of the stage. Strauss and Clairo were able to invite the audience inwards, creating a homey and intimate feel to a performance that has only continued to increase in size over the years. Imogene Strauss’s resume is stacked, including visual concepts for Caroline Polachek’s “Spiraling” tour, involving themes of religious imagery and renaissance painting aesthetics with a woodcut volcano backdrop complete with sparks of flames. Or her ideas and coordination with production manager Jonny Kingsbury on the elaborate Sweat tour production, which felt both minimalist with the limited stage props, but also chaotic and theatrical, complete with cameras following Charli and Troye around the stage. Without question, Strauss’ creative direction both onstage and off has influenced audience perception, immersive visuals, and over-the-top experiences for many modernday artists that may shape the scale of conceptual stage design for years to come.
Creative directors are oftentimes the fairy godmothers of an artist’s visual identity, transforming abstract concepts into tangible, eradefining moments that can go down in pop culture history. From Nicola Formichetti’s theatrical, often whimsical-adjacent visions for Lady Gaga to Imogene Strauss’s immersive stage designs, these visionaries shape how we perceive music beyond sound — through fashion, performance, and storytelling. If striking enough, their work lingers long after the curtain falls, proving that in today’s music landscape, aesthetics and narrative are just as vital as the songs themselves, whether or not we realize it at first glance.
by Sachi Andrade
visual by Liam Alexe
The leaves fell with such a grace, as if to engage in an intricate dance with the wind. It felt like an endless summer, and the deep greens would still transmute into a vivid, soily brown, even with a tinge of sweetness in the air. Fallen foliage forms a perfect whirlwind in the windiest city in America. If I were asked back then, it was also the emptiest city in the United States. I was to begin college in the spring instead of the fall, so the college experience then became a fantasy of sorts, within reach yet still intangible. In reality, I was confined to two things: my hometown and my job. My hometown has always felt relatively lonely, but the fall after graduation it felt desolate. While holding a job at a college bookstore in Boston, the mundanity of the T transfers from red to green eventually caught up to me. During every morning commute, I would read Bret Easton Ellis novels and listen to “Heaven Knows I’m Miserable Now” by The Smiths ad nauseam.
The era of my life during the gap semester is melancholic to a certain degree. Even if I remember it through the golden lens of a Bostonian autumn, though beautiful, one would still be able to extract a sense of isolation. Working on a campus didn’t help; it fueled my anticipation to begin college to spiral. The liminal interior of the textbook department quieted my thoughts, not to calm me down, but to gray out whatever tasks I had completed. The best part of the workday was the end. When the shift was over, I’d go on solo walks for hours until dusk, looking at architecture, picking up a pastry from a different bakery each day, and observing the intricately placed flora in the Public Garden. It was almost a bit artificial. I felt like a spectator most of the time and, in many ways, a tourist on a solo voyage. Music accompanied me throughout
these experiences, regardless of how lonely it often felt. I began to develop a deep earnestness for simple human interaction until the beauty of being alone enveloped me. Back then, the sounds of The Sundays, The Smiths, The Cure, Cocteau Twins, King Krule, Lou Reed, The Beatles, Gang of Four, and many others sometimes felt like instant gratification. Jangle was the word.
Jangle pop, or jangle rock, is one of many subgenres of rock to emerge from the 1960s. The style was first popularized by acts such as The Byrds, The Beatles, and The Velvet Underground, but pioneered by The Searchers and The Everly Brothers. However, it is most associated with the 1980s with bands such as The Smiths, R.E.M., and The Cure. Sonically, it is a combination of folk, indie, and pop. Jangle sounds as if you were to play a guitar like a banjo, twangy and clear.
To replicate this sound, one preferably needs a single coil pickup. Guitar pickups are transducers, like microphones, converting the vibrations of the strings into energy. Electric guitars often have either one or two coil pickups. Two coil pickups are called “humbucking pickups;” both coils cancel each other out, which also cancels out electric interference (the hum and other noises). Single coil pickups bring out a brighter, shimmering, “jangly” tone. They are bobbins with six or twelve magnetic bars inserted and enameled wire around it, the coil.
Gaps between the coils make a difference in the sound; for instance, increasing the space between them will increase the treble. One guitar most associated with jangle pop bands is the Rickenbacker, which also made the first 12-string electric guitar in 1963. The beginning of the British Invasion was ruled by this specific guitar. George Harrison of The Beatles played the second 12-string Rickenbacker ever created
and used it most during the recordings for their 1963 album, A Hard Day’s Night, one of the most notable examples. John Lennon later acquired one as well, creating a distinct sound that became associated with the band. The 12-string was also the instrument of preference for Roger McGuinn of The Byrds in the United States, another pioneer of jangle. The final ingredient in the recipe for jangle is the techniques most used for playing such as moveable shapes, chord shapes that can be positioned anywhere on the fretboard, and the use of arpeggio. A better-known example of arpeggiation is Radiohead’s “Weird Fishes/ Arpeggi.” The track is primarily played in broken chords in a progressively descending or progressing order.
The final ingredient in the recipe for jangle is the techniques most used for playing such as moveable shapes, chord shapes that can be positioned anywhere on the fretboard, and the use of arpeggio.
Genres change insurmountably throughout time, consistently evolving and layering the composition of songs within that category. By the 1970s, jangly guitar was replaced by a more brash and grating style with the rising popularity of metal and branching subgenres infiltrating the mainstream. In the 1980s, jangle had returned as a style most associated with the indie genre while incorporating heavy synthesizers quintessential of the time. The Smiths had dominated this sound throughout this decade, a mix of glam rock with folksy riffs. Another group notable in furthering the popularity of “shimmering” guitar instrumentals is the Cocteau Twins. The increasing association of jangle and indie from its former prominence in pop comes from the infamous C86 Cassette from
NME, or New Musical Express, in 1986. NME was a music magazine that originated in the U.K. Their issues often included covermounts or products packaged as part of an issue of a publication, such as cassettes and CDs. The publication curated compilations of new and upcoming artists in a mixtape called the “C series.” C86 is marked as the beginning of indie pop, with most bands using Rickenbacker guitars, such as their predecessors, becoming a hallmark of indie music. C86 was also a movement within itself, as the band McCarthy (referencing American politician, Joe McCarthy) and a few others had songs that contained overtly leftist lyrics, which resulted in some criticisms on whether it was music or dissonance.
C86
is marked as the beginning of indie pop, with most bands using Rickenbacker guitars, such as their predecessors, becoming a hallmark of indie music. C86 was also a movement within itself
During and beyond the 1980s, indie had become a larger genre and had started to branch out, and the influence of jangle had prevailed. Groups such as The Sundays, The Cranberries, Lush, The Goo Goo Dolls, etc. emerged as taking influence from bands such as The Smiths and Cocteau Twins, as previously mentioned. Genres born out of jangle influence include shoegaze, post-punk, folk rock, and college rock. Contemporary musicians and bands specifically that are influenced by jangle pop and rock include artists such as Mac DeMarco and King Krule. Archy Marshall’s (King Krule) studio debut, 6 Feet Beneath the Moon, takes on jangly guitar that evokes melancholy similar to The Cure’s genre-bending discography. Jangle is the unseen victor that has greatly influenced the rock we listen to today.
Returning, I see and hear that autumn often— the portraiture of playwright Shelagh Delaney, depicted on the cover of The Smiths’ compilation, Louder Than Bombs, or I hear the word “coy.” The bulk of dark blue denim skirts mixed with a delicate .925 chain suspending a waxen placidfaced moon made of bone. Rereading Toni Morrison’s “Tar Baby” in the soapy, blushed cart of a Commuter Rail train heading southeast. Everything was juxtaposed in a certain and quaint way then, and repeating actions make it feel eternal.
Shimmery riffs, ethereal vocals, and whimsical compositions became the essential soundtrack of that season. I’d like to give access to that feeling, happy listening!
visual by Aryssa Guerrero
On January 16, 2025, a headline from The Guardian reading, “I knew one day I’d have to watch powerful men burn the world down — I just didn’t expect them to be such losers” went viral. This pretty much sums up how many of us are feeling in a time when supervillains rule the government wearing “dark gothic MAGA,” so let’s dive into the music that we listen to in response to when the world feels like it’s about to stop spinning.
In moments of political and social unrest in the past, people have fought back in the form of protest, love, and resistance. In music, protest songs from the folk music of the ’60s and ’70s to Kendrick Lamar’s 2015 “Alright,” have truly made a difference in motivating and inspiring social movements. We need songs that will unite people and songs that will urge us to fight back against the policies (and policy makers [and their billionaire friends]) that tear us apart.
We also need songs that distract us from everything going on in the world—songs that are playful, flippant, and light. In other words: whimsy.
“Recession pop” refers to an era of music during the 2008 Great Recession when the radio was full of danceable, fun, party-anthems. We listened to Katy Perry’s “Teenage Dream” and Lady Gaga’s “Just Dance.” These songs didn’t have some deep commentary on the economy (thank God). Instead, they were a distraction from the biggest financial meltdown to hit America in years because it’s what people needed at the time. It’s what people wanted.
The term recession pop has been making its way back into the pop culture vocabulary since 2022 with a particular resurgence during the 2024 election. We may not be in an economic pitfall anymore (or maybe yet), but the country’s spirits sure aren’t high. The artists topping the charts in
2024 are women who sing about clubbing, unabashed queerness, and espressos. They are otherwise known as Charli XCX, Chappell Roan, and Sabrina Carpenter. The three come from different sides of pop and sing about different subject matters, but what they all have in common is the high-energy fun of their 2024 releases.
Charli XCX’s “Apple” has people who previously would never think of learning a TikTok dance doing exactly that. Chappell Roan’s “Good Luck, Babe!” sings about a breakup with a woman who can “kiss a hundred boys in bars” but will never have the same feelings she does for the singer.
Sabrina Carpenter’s “Espresso” has the kind of nonsensical hook that grabbed listeners attention from its release and shot her into superstardom. These songs got us on our feet and dancing in a way we haven’t in years.
A spike in listening to danceable music doesn’t necessarily mean we’re all at the club. In 2020, Dua Lipa’s Future Nostalgia took over. Despite being a dance album released during the peak of the pandemic, it still did super well. It shows that fun, playful music is needed in times when spirits are low, even when that music may not fit the bill of what our lives look like.
The whole world doesn’t have to be going to shit for you to be drawn to whimsy in your playlists. Your personal life can be drowning, while the rest of the world prospers when you need whimsical music the most! In TV and movies, characters postbreak up can be seen crying, looking out their window on a rainy night listening to sad, sad music. While this dramatization may be accurate at times, we also find ourselves listening to songs about sex and self-assurance during break ups and some of life’s toughest moments.
Look at Rihanna’s Rated R, released after she survived a highly-publicized abusive relationship.
She came out with songs like “Rude Boy” that showcased her sexuality and talent, refusing to let the media control her narrative, and instead taking the reins with creative control by releasing danceable party anthems mixed with vulnerability on her own terms. Britney Spears’ 2007 Blackout is yet another example of a pop star doing exactly what people expected her not to do after facing public scrutiny. Like Rihanna, Britney took over creative control in a way she hadn’t on previous albums to make club bangers that topped the charts. These pop phenomena are proof that we don’t have to lay down and cry when we face scrutiny (public or not).
Whether you’re going through something on a personal level right now, or you’re simply a person living on earth in the year 2025, we could all use some whimsical music to lift us up — as corny as that may sound and as lovably corny some of the songs may be.
